


White Innocence

by Emriel



Series: White Innocence [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Bullying, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, MoD Harry, Necromancy, Nightmares, Possessive Behavior, Slash, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: Harry is given another chance to live but there is a catch. He wakes up in the past. Thinking it was all a mistake, Harry plots to get back but has the misfortune of attracting the attention of Tom Riddle. They become friends and Tom starts to feel things that are foreign to him. So he keeps Harry close. What starts as curiosity turns into an obsession.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is cross posted in fanfiction.net. It's my first time here though I'm almost always lurking. Since I mostly write dark stories... I'm hoping this one doesn't turn into something really dark really fast. I want to write something fluffy and light so I'm giving myself that chance now. For the lack of a better title, I chose White Innocence. White because of purity and cleanliness. Innocence can speak for itself. I want to think of Harry and Tom in their younger state as blank slates. It's also nice that white can become dirty really fast and how it will never become the same again when you mix another color with it.
> 
> That being said, I hope you guys enjoy this.

The train station was empty. Sometimes when he visited, it was full of people. Sometimes he would even see a familiar face or two but it was strangely empty and quiet. The place was devoid of life and he could feel the cold seeping through his clothes.

Harry shivered.

So he found himself a corner and sat, waiting for the inevitable train or the pull that would put him back to his body. He waited. He tapped his foot.

It was always something or the other.

He tried to remember how he died this time. There were fanatics who attacked. As an auror, he had to do his job of course. Instead of saving himself, he did the saving people thing. He prioritized evacuating the citizens out of the ministry. He managed to get a hold of the assailants' wands and was about to tie them up when one of them got close enough to stab him through the chest.

Multiple times it seemed.

Harry stared at the mess of his clothes. The blood looked very fresh against his white clothes.

He inspected how many stab wounds he sustained. "Five… six…"

He sighed, feeling too old and weary. He wondered if he should bother coming back. Surely, even the Ministry would be wary if he came back from the dead. Not aging was one thing, but returning from the dead was another. Then, after what felt like hours, he heard soft footsteps.

"Harry, my boy."

Harry looked at the approaching man. He frowned. It seemed like Albus was revisiting his younger days, and instead of his usual grandfatherly look, he had golden orange hair. He was still old looking, but a tad younger than what he remembered the headmaster should be.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry greeted.

"It's been awhile. How is everything?" The small seat began to widen, and the old headmaster sat beside him.

"Where do I start?"

The headmaster unwrapped a piece of candy, and offered one to him. Harry wondered if eating candy while he was dead would do anything to his body, he accepted it anyway. The visage of Albus flickered for a moment, and he heard a train approach.

"Tell me about your family."

Harry felt something constrict in his chest and then began, "Ginny and I separated. It's been that way for a few years. The kids are all grown up and Albus, ah not you… My son, Albus Severus. He's getting married. I might have a grandchild soon!" Harry tried to feel happy and excited but deflated, "I feel like I'm going to live forever sometimes and it's weird you know, when you take a look at your son and he looks older than you."

To this, Dumbledore nodded sagely, as if he knew everything.

The train was almost there. The sound of the train passing through the tracks and the breaks wheezing against the wind filled the quietness. The horns blew and the doors opened. Several footsteps and disjointed murmuring echoed here and there.

"I tried to fix things. I wore glamours, changed my voice… but it felt like it was all a lie and it got tiring… So I stopped showing myself to people. I had a brilliant idea of wearing a mask."

Dumbledore laughed, "Ahh, the perils of having eternal youth. Tell me more."

Harry fingered his white bloodstained robes, "I got back to work. Funny how no one really questioned why I would wear a mask but it made things easier. I apprehended a lot of the remaining fanatics. They called themselves the new order, and used a variation of the dark mark. And I know… I do understand they are fighting for a cause that they think is right but… they're going at it the wrong way. I don't know why they resort to violence."

Albus combed a hand through his short beard, "Some say the end justifies the means. Many people are willing to go through the bloody path if it gets them closer to their goal faster than they could ever do by doing things peacefully."

Harry frowned at this and bit his lip, "Even if it makes them evil?"

The headmaster laughed, "A matter of perspective, Harry. When I was younger, I thought the same and perhaps if Ariana hadn't died, the world would be very different now."

The train began to whistle, and blurs of white and gray were moving towards it.

"…You should get on the train Harry. You don't want to stay here for longer than you should."

Harry stood up, green eyes narrowed. "Do you know where it leads?"

Albus chewed on his lemon drop for a bit before answering, "Being the master of death is quite tricky, but I assure you, it will never do anything for you that you do not want."

Harry turned away and began thinking out loud, "So are you saying that I wanted to die? That I wanted this to happen to me?"

When he looked back, Albus was gone.

He heard the faint voice calling out, "All aboard! All aboard!"

* * *

He woke up, freezing and in pain. A whimper left his throat. Then he noticed how small his hands were. They were almost blue with cuts and bruises that littered around.

He was dying.

He coughed out blood and crawled out of what seemed like a box. His lower half was soaked with water and blood and a part of him knew that it was on purpose. Someone left him there to die in the dumps.

Harry panicked, knowing this was a mistake, he willed for his magic to help him and almost smiled when he felt it there, barely but it wouldn't follow him. It didn't jump to his command as easily as before. All he could do was pathetically crawl with his arms. It was the only part of him that he could move.

His cheeks rubbed against the pavement but he forced himself to move. The snow was cold, and almost inviting. He was so tired.

He managed to get out of the dark street into the light and heard someone scream.

Harry saw the face of a concerned woman, and that was the last of it.

* * *

Warmth. His head felt like it was going to burst but the rest of him felt strangely warm. So warm.

"That's because you have a fever."

Harry blinked, "I said that out loud."

"Yes, you did."

Green eyes adjusted to the sudden light. Curtains were opened to see the frosty white of winter. He was in a rather run down room, and Harry tried to ignore very hard… who was it that just talked to him. The other boy was looking out into the same dreary landscape of white. His presence was very magnetic.

"Your name?" The smooth voice asked, high pitched in all ways a child's voice should sound. Then, the boy turned to look at him, arms crossed.

Harry stared at him. Even as a child, Tom Riddle was majestic. His power and magic roiled about him in an almost obscene way. It was too gigantic of a force to be contained by a small body. He wasn't Voldemort though. Tom's face was unmarred by all the atrocities that he's done and it almost felt like the boy was innocent, like an _angel_.

Tom tapped his fingers impatiently, "I asked for your name."

Harry tried to calm down. His fever addled mind coupled with the raging headache did nothing for his sudden racing heart. He felt like he was hyperventilating, and he gasped.

Tom Riddle looked concerned, and came closer until then there was a hand on his forehead.

All throughout Harry was screaming ' _Too close. This can't be real.'_ In his head.

But all he could do was gasp like a fish out of water. If he could, Harry would've been very mortified at how he was reacting but as it was, he was panicking at the repercussions of where he was and what he was doing in the _PAST_ with the not-yet dark lord.

Tom expertly maneuvered Harry's body until he was sitting up a bit and pillows were placed behind the sick boy, to prevent him from lying down.

Then a glass of water was placed next to his lips. "Drink."

Harry drank it, and it felt like it was the first time he's tasted water. He finished it too fast, droplets falling down his chin. Tom wiped it off with a small towel, almost annoyed.

Another glass was offered and this time, Harry managed to remember he had hands, and with shaking hands, he took the offered glass and began taking slower sips. He watched the other boy from underneath his lashes.

"They told me, you might not like your name." Tom struggled for the words, "that you might hate it… because of what happened."

Harry lowered the glass, wincing as his head hurt. A flash of an abusive man appeared. Fat just like his uncle but a touch more violent. Grotesque. He shivered as he remembered being used like a slave. He was an orphan who was picked up from the streets. At first it was fine, but soon enough it became a pattern bottles being thrown at his feet, being whipped and caned, and tortured for no reason. One drunken night, the man had gone too far, asking friends to join in, which led to his supposed death. He was nine.

They put him in a box, and poured water over his body, hoping it would freeze enough in the cold weather. Harry reached out for his neck, remembering how he was strangled there, and he tried to fight back.

And then, he flinched when a hand clasped his. Tom lowered his other hand until it was back on the bed. Harry found himself looking back at blue eyes and so much _power._

"They caught him. He won't hurt you anymore."

Harry tried to make sense of his feelings, but he was altogether too shocked to speak up. After a moment, and realizing that he was staring too much, Harry looked away. Tom let go of his hands and from the bedside, lifted a tray with a bowl of sludge and placed it on his lap.

"It's disgusting, I know… but it's food."

Harry felt his eyebrow's knit.

"Why are you being so nice? You don't even know me." Harry was positively… almost hopeful… that maybe… maybe there was some goodness in Tom Riddle or he hit himself too hard and was having one big nightmare.

Tom for a moment, looked troubled.

"It was a task to take care of you… The others took turns too." Harry knew the boy wanted to say something else but waved it off. "The doctor said you'll be fine but you wouldn't wake up. You were asleep for almost a week."

Harry tried to suppress the other bout of panic. He bit the inside of his cheek repeatedly, wondering if he could wake up in his own time. When he realized that it was not working, he felt his throat clam up and something began to sting.

Tom Riddle looked at him as if he wanted to say something more, like he was visibly restraining himself. Harry could feel the magic, excited but troubled before subsiding, settling lazily around the angelic boy whose lips were opening, "Now you're awake. Eat."

Harry took the spoon and attacked the sludge, and tried to swallow. He was definitely crying by now. He blamed the child's body and the child's memory and his apparent helplessness of not being able to do anything _yet_.

The sludge was tasteless and gooey but it was food so, he tried to distract himself with it.

Then Harry smiled, his voice all broken but earnest, "Thank you, for taking care of me. You can call me… Harry."

Harry held out his hand, noticing the fading bruises the tiny cuts that remained. Tom took it, very gently. "I'm Tom. Tom Riddle."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess that I had a bit of a hard time to finish editing this. I think I've read it too many times and changed tidbits here and there too much so I'm just posting it. This chapter is probably a little slow but there's some more Tom and Harry interaction.

Harry just finished the last of the tasteless sludge. He was done crying and tried not to feel so embarrassed about being so emotional. Now that he was done with his food, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't find it in himself to start a conversation. Tom sat beside him, having pulled a chair and was reading a book. It was comforting to hear the pages turn slowly. He tried his best to be discreet about reading the title of the book. 'Hugh… Selwyn… something.' Tom glanced at him and Harry looked away.

Tom turned another page.

For some reason, the boy reminded him painfully of Hermione.

At the thought of her, he thought of home and wondered if there was a way to travel forward in time. He wasn't sure when the time turner was created and it seemed like the most viable option to use… but he also wasn't sure why he got sent back. If he was here now, was he supposed to stay? He can stay and wait it out then he'll be back in his proper time… although the wait would be too long. Would it mean that the future he once knew was gone?

Harry frowned. Right now though, he needs to get better. He can't even walk or use his magic.

He felt really troubled and wished for an explanation. He thought of Dumbledore and his cryptic words. He didn't want to be reborn. Being in direct contact with Tom Riddle can't be a coincidence though. It could've been related to the horcrux…

Once he was able, he could go to Diagon Alley and acquire books. He knew of a spell that could create copies. He sighed quietly, mindful of the other boy who was reading beside him.

The other pressing matter was being the Master of Death. Harry shivered at the thought of being stuck in the physical body of nine for the rest of his life. In theory, if he aged, then perhaps he was no longer the master of death.

Then there were his memories. The memories of his current body seemed to override his previous life. It was thoroughly confusing. He would need to practice occlumency if he wanted to sort them out.

He wondered if the professor would know something and blinked. ' _I could just go and ask him… if I remember correctly, he's coming here to see Tom_. _I wonder how old is Tom. He can't be that much older than me…_ '

His forehead crunched in thought. ' _But telling the professor might complicate things… ahh… hmn…_ '

Tom paused from reading and wordlessly took the tray and the glass of water. "Harry?"

Harry swallowed. Tom turned to look at him looking concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

'Everything', Harry wanted to say but looked down and said, "Nothing... I want to get better… that's all."

"I see." At this, the boy dismissed him, and went back to his book.

Tom just _had_ to be attentive. ' _Well, he is supposed to take care of me._ ' Harry reasoned.

Before his thoughts could turn into a downward spiral of wanting to return _home_ , the door to the room opened.

Tom snapped his book shut and stood up. His hair hid his eyes.

"Thank heavens. He's awake." The voice came from an old lady, perhaps in her late thirties. She was wearing an apron with stains around the edges. She felt familiar.

"Martha," Tom greeted.

Martha smiled at Tom but Harry noticed it looked a bit forced. "Henry, how are you feeling?"

To this, Tom looked up, "His name is Harry."

"But the records say-"

"That's what he told me. He prefers _Harry_."

"Did he now?" Harry winced at the sharp pain in his head.

He shifted a little in the bed and almost squirmed at the silence. Tom felt positively hostile now. Harry decided to butt in, "um… Ms. Martha… that's what I told Tom… you see-"

When the woman looked at him, the woman beamed. "Alright then, Harry it is... Tom, call Mrs. Cole for me."

Harry exhaled heavily.

Tom left the room and he knew the boy was annoyed. Martha came closer and Harry suddenly remembered the woman from the street. Martha was the last person he saw before fainting. He put two and two together.

"You poor child." Harry flinched when she came too close, close enough that he could smell the mix of some mild perfume and onions. "I know this might not be the best of places but you're safe now. So tell me dear, how are you feeling?"

"I think. I can't move my legs yet… but I can move my toes a little." Harry wiggled his toes, and Martha chuckled. "I have… a really bad headache and Tom said I have a fever."

"Oh, well, that's to be expected. Let me have a look" She was going to put her hand on his forehead.

Harry slapped the hand.

"I- sorry Ms. Martha… I. it was… my hand moved on its own-" The woman sighed, "It's alright Harry. No harm done. Now don't be scared."

The hand went slower this time but the touch had Harry cringing.

"Let me get you something."

The woman went to the sink somewhere near the corner of the room and procured a towel which she put under a water. She wrung it a few times before walking back. The pillows behind him were taken away and he was lowered on the bed, towel now on top of his forehead.

"There, feel better?"

Harry nodded.

"It must be hard, after what you've gone through… but I'm sure you'll recover. You seem like a strong lad."

Harry flashed her a weak smile, "I'm glad you think that Ms. Martha."

"You can just call me Martha. There's no need to be so polite."

Harry nodded, "Martha… Tom said my father… the man who did this was caught?"

Martha had a stricken expression on her face.

"Yes, you don't have to worry about him, Harry. The law will punish him."

Silence.

Harry tried not to fidget or show how uncomfortable he was. He wasn't supposed to be scared. He rationalized that Martha was a good person but a part of him didn't like her.

"You have no other family?"

Harry shook his head and looked down.

"Then, you'll be staying with us. This place is called the Wool's orphanage. Mrs. Cole will soon arrive to explain a few things. Some rules you'll need to follow."

"Ok."

Martha looked at the empty dishes, "I see you've eaten. You'll have to bear with it for awhile. The doctor said this is safer than feeding you solid food."

He twiddled with the blanket on his lap. His instincts were at war. He tried to fight the unnecessary suspicion and fear.

Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly.

He felt naked in his new form, too vulnerable. From his other life, he was also a bit socially inept. That also played a part. It was hard talking to some random stranger even if the said stranger saved his life. He resisted pulling the blanket higher because he knew it would do nothing to help get rid of the feeling. The door opened again. "Ah, Harry. This is Mrs. Cole. And Amy and Dennis." The two children looked excited. "These two helped nurse you back to health."

"You owe Martha your life, boy." Mrs. Cole pushed her nose in the air, "We've put up a notice for anyone who might know you but no one came, so am I correct to I assume you're an orphan?"

"Yes."

"The budget is already tight." Mrs. Cole pursed her lips. Martha looked a bit upset.

"Mrs. Cole, we've talked about this. Harry has no other place to stay. Surely he can stay with us... There is enough room," Martha pleaded

Mrs. Cole made a disgruntled sound.

Harry knew then that Mrs. Cole was the one in charge of the Orphanage. She didn't seem that cruel though, just a weary and overworked old woman. The lines on her face showed. "Alright… we'll just have to make ends meet."

"Now, let's see… _Harry_? I believe you know what an orphanage is." Harry nodded, and behind the woman, he could see the two children. They were both staring unabashedly at him.

"Do you know how to read and write?"

"Yes-"

"Then tomorrow, I will have you sign a waiver and some other documents. They're nothing but formalities. Do you happen to have any documents pertaining to your birth?"

"No Mrs. Cole."

The old lady exhaled sharply, "I will handle it. Can you give me your last name?"

Harry blinked at this. He sighed, "I was adopted… so I don't know my name before Henry Price… and if possible, I don't want to take… that name. I don't want it."

"Understandable, Harry. Think of a name then or we can pick one for you. You have until tomorrow afternoon."

"Once you're well, I expect you to contribute your share of work. It involves cleaning, cooking, and washing clothes. It's only every once in a while. Mostly, I require you to take care of yourself. Eat, drink, and sleep enough. You'll have a room to yourself or room with the others. I'll let you know once that's all settled."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes Mrs. Cole."

Mrs. Cole seemed to approve and continued, "You are required to keep yourself clean and presentable because at any given time we might have visitors who come to _adopt_ children." The woman began inspecting him. Harry pulled his blanket a little higher. "You will attend classes together with the rest of the children. We have mass on Sundays. Sometimes, we visit places like the sea, or the park. You are free to roam except outside the premises." She muttered, "I know the grounds are large enough but-"

Her eyes narrowed, "If you want to go out, you will need permission and you _must_ come back _on time_. It is winter and I prefer all of us to stay inside. If you want to play in the snow, keep it short."

Harry nodded. The old lady smiled thinly, "There's a small library, a common room, the clinic which is this room, the bathrooms on every floor, and the canteen. You may ask the children to show you around."

To this, Martha said, "I'm the cook. I'll write you a note to help you remember."

"Thank you… for letting me stay here, and for saving me Martha, Mrs. Cole."

Mrs. Cole thawed a bit, "Martha, perhaps the boy needs rest. Why don't we leave him with the kids. Amy, Dennis. You know what to do."

Martha and Mrs. Cole left the room. They conversed in hushed tones. When they were entirely out of earshot, the two children came over, excited. Amy looked at him with wide curious eyes. She was a girl with freckles, a fringe and braids. She put something gray and black on his bedside.

"Hi. Here's some clothes. We all wear the same thing mostly. Grey."

Dennis plopped on the bed, and Harry winced, "Hey Dennis, be more careful will you. He's sick."

"Yes, yes Amy. Harry… so sorry you had to wake up with Tom. He didn't do anything bad did he?"

Harry found himself saying, "No. He was kind to me."

Dennis grumbled, "Tom Riddle. Kind? Huh… never thought I'd hear that."

"Anyway… Harry," Amy seemed to blush, "I can call you Harry right?"

"That's my name, yeah."

"You can tell us if you need anything. It's a Sunday so me and Dennis… uhh Dennis and I, you know… we're here to help you."

Dennis was snickering and Amy pinched the boy's sides. Harry winced once more at the sudden movement, "Oh, Sorry Harry… Damn it Amy, that hurt. Owww. Stop pinching." He pushed the other girl who stumbled and glared. "I'll just get off the bed," He then sat on the chair, turning it around so he can rest his chin on the backrest.

Dennis was a rather slightly chubby kid. He looked rambunctious, and felt like it. Loud, hyper and attention seeking but he didn't seem like he was anything bad. His loud voice grated on his headache though.

"Amy?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you happen to have a mirror?"

* * *

He finished looking at himself and handed back the small hand mirror to Amy.

For the most part, he could see the resemblance to his old self. It was in the way his face was shaped. He was way skinnier though, smaller and decidedly more frail looking. He knew that part of the abuse contributed to that. He retained his vivid green eyes, and yet this time he required no glasses. His hair was almost silky and fell in loose waves but was uneven. It reached his shoulders. It made him look slightly feminine, so he wondered about cutting it. The fat man almost never bothered to get it cut. It was parted on the right side and covered a part of his forehead. He brushed it away and found his forehead blemish free. He was almost afraid to see the scar again but thankfully that was gone too. He saw a few cigarette burns peeking through his collar, black marks around his neck, a bandaged torso, arms, legs and all.

"We thought you were going to die! You look way better than when they first brought you here."

"-but Martha called for the Doctors… and you became lot better afterwards. I've never seen her so concerned. So… they're all trying to keep it a secret. What happened? Come on. Tell us."

"I'd rather not."

"Why not? What about, I tell you about mine, and then you can tell me about how you got here?"

"Dennis! Harry said he didn't want to."

"Amy, you have a crush on Harry don't you."

Amy began to whack her fists against the laughing boy.

"No I do not! Harry's sick, and he doesn't need to tell you why if he doesn't want to. That's all."

Harry winced, "Can you please… tone it down a little… my head hurts."

Harry drowned out the voices of the two children who after some time, began to talk in a softer voice after apologizing to him.

They were happy to share stories about the orphanage. They ticked of names of people he couldn't be bothered to remember. Wilson, Nathan, and tidbits of how they all got there. When he asked about Tom, they were a bit tight lipped and Dennis said, "You're better off staying away from him."

"He's not that bad though," Amy said. "He's just too quiet."

"He talks to himself sometimes."

Dennis nodded too many times, "Scary… there's something about him… but better not let him hear that."

Harry pursed his lips. He already knew that the other children would be wary of Tom. He knew that they wanted to say something more but they already looked uncomfortable and tight lipped. Magic of that magnitude was bound to instigate fear on those who cannot understand it.

"Ah… I almost forgot. The clothes!"

There was an embarrassing escapade of changing clothes which had Amy blushing like a tomato. Harry found himself enjoying the company. He then thought it was enough for the day. The fever made him quite lethargic.

* * *

He woke up from the feeling of someone putting new bandages on his arm. He winced, finding it a bit uncomfortable since some wounds haven't fully healed.

"Tom?" He felt the swirling magic still.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Just… ahhh feeling." Harry yawned, and murmured, "What time is it?" Green eyes blinked open several times.

The curtains were closed but he couldn't really see the sun out. "It's seven in the morning."

Harry yawned again and wondered, "Do… you… _really_ have to get up so early?"

Tom stopped wrapping his bandage, magic whirling around once again. "No… but you shouldn't be awake."

To this, Harry felt a wash of the said magic, and he closed his eyes at the force. He tried to fight it and perhaps it was the sudden sleepiness that had him reaching for his glasses. It was a force of habit and by the time he realized he didn't have one, he inwardly cursed. He laughed sheepishly when Tom looked at him with his eyes narrowed, "Are you looking for something?"

Harry tried to think of something, an excuse, and decided that the truth was easier to go with, "My glasses… actually."

Tom secured the bandage with some shiny metal and moved to the other side of the bed, dropping a box that had cotton and silver and all things Harry was very familiar with. "Do you need them?"

Harry shook his head.

"Is it important to you?"

Tom asked the question with a tilt of the head, and his eyes gleamed when the light hit it. Harry reflexively clenched his fists, "not anymore."

Tom stared at him, and then, there was a hand holding his left hand. "Amy and Dennis were with you. Did they say anything about me? You can tell me, Harry."

The boy was feeling for his pulse. Harry's green eyes tried to see through the darkness of the room, trying to discern the other boy's expression.

"Dennis… couldn't believe I called you kind."

The boy drew a line on the wrist with his thumb, "Is that all?"

The magic was forcing him to say things, and Harry understood what he was feeling. Wandless compulsion. He fought against it but his breath stuttered, "n-nothing… they said nothing else about you."

"Tell me the truth."

A flash of the conversation with the two kids appeared in his head and Harry looked away from the penetrating stare. Tom Riddle was _trying_ to bloody read his mind and that was wrong in so many levels because his head had information that would potentially wreak havoc in the future if it were to fall in the wrong hands.

Harry tried to will away the image of Voldemort, and from where he was lying down, defenseless, unable to use his magic… he felt inexplicably powerless. He killed Voldemort's pieces one by one in the future, and they were nightmares all the same but somehow this boy who could wield magic without restraint just by the force of his will felt more frightening than all of Voldemort's pieces combined. He felt as if he was drowning from force of it. Harry pulled his hand away but Tom's grip was too strong. Harry called out for his magic, irrationally, desperately, but still, it wouldn't come out.

Harry tried to tell himself that he was older. He was not nine. He was a fifty-six-year-old man who survived war and death. It wasn't working.

The hand tightened. Harry whimpered and his eyes watered.

Tom loosened his hold. "I didn't mean to frighten you." Then Tom rubbed slow circles on the wrist, his magic turned soothing and Harry felt like he could breathe again.

"I just wanted to know… if they lied about me."

Tom clasped his hand now. All Harry could see was the glow in his eyes. They're not red.

"Shh… It's alright. I won't hurt you."

The words echoed in his being.

Harry forced his head to turn away from Tom and buried his cheek on the pillow.

"I'll remove the bandages on this arm… It might hurt."

Tom Riddle went back to unwrapping the bandage.

The birds cawed, and the wind from outside hit the glass window. It rattled.

The sound of footsteps from above and murmuring voices were heard. People were waking up.

Harry felt guilty for not breaking the silence. He almost didn't want to face the other boy.

Where was his Gryffindor bravery?

"I want to be friends, Harry."

"What?"

Harry felt his hands twitch and murmured against the pillow, "Why?"

Tom removed the last of the bandage and began cleaning his wounds. Without warning him. It felt like Tom was punishing him so Harry amended, "I mean… why do you have to ask? Aren't we already… friends?"

Harry faltered at the word friends.

Tom Riddle opened the forceps in a very loud manner that had Harry looking back at him. The pointed edges looked sinister in the boy's hands. Tom took his time grabbing the cotton and poured antiseptic over it. Harry bit his lip when there was another dab. The vertical swipe stung.

"I merely wanted to make it official that you and I are friends," Tom said as if it made perfect sense. Harry wondered if he was Tom's first ever friend.

"What do you say, Harry? Are we friends?" Tom's voice was hopeful.

Harry took a moment to hesitate despite what he just said. He really wasn't sure where this would all lead to. He just hoped he was doing the right thing.

"Yes, Tom. I'm now. _Officially_ your friend."

Tom seemed to smile, and Harry smiled back. All trace of the earlier mishap was forgotten.

"Good."

Tom was very thorough in cleaning his arm and soon it was done. It was almost pleasant, watching him work. When Tom wasn't dissecting him with his eyes, Harry thought he was very fascinating to look at. The other boy was such a perfectionist. Harry pondered about persuading Tom to become a mediwizard and thought that would be awesome. A dark lord who healed people.

Harry almost grinned and chastised himself for thinking about anything dark lord related. He wished that maybe in time, he could learn to separate Tom from Voldemort. He was willing to give the boy a chance despite how easy it would be to just kill him. The thought of having to kill anyone made him disgusted with himself. He already did it once and it still haunted him.

"I find myself curious, Harry. Why do you let me touch you?" Tom asked when he began wrapping the bandage. "I overheard Martha talking to Mrs. Cole that you probably hate getting touched."

The room began to brighten as the sun began to rise. Harry wiggled his toes. "I… I've never liked strangers and maybe it's because of what happened… I'm scared of adults…"

"They shouldn't have hurt you," Tom hissed. "I know." Harry agreed but sighed, "There's no use thinking about it though. At least I'm still alive."

Tom looked at him as if he was trying to figure him out. After awhile, the boy secured the bandage and put away the things on the nearby table.

Tom brought his fingers to his lips in thought.

"I have a proposal. I will let them know you can stay with me. You did say you don't like strangers and we are already friends."

Harry's mouth opened and closed. He began, "Mrs. Cole said that there might be another empty room?"

"All the rooms are taken, and the rest of the children share their rooms with another. I'm the only one without a roommate. Mrs. Cole doesn't keep track of this so she wouldn't know." Tom paused, "There is the attic… but I will _not_ let you stay there. It will take them months to clean _that_ up."

Harry Potter bit his lip, and sighed.

"What if she says no?"

To this, Tom smirked, "Trust me, Harry. She won't."

' _Of course'_ , Harry grumbled in his head.

"Ok then. Tell Mrs. Cole… hmn but will I get my own bed? I want," Harry yawned, "one..."

And then, there was a hand petting his head. Harry's eyes closed. Long lashes fluttered shut and he was definitely not feeling warm from it. ' _He's using magic… to make me sleep… cheater…'_ He tried to remember his age and his purpose. He was Harry Potter, the hero, the _chosen one_. He could hardly believe it himself now. His other life felt like a dream. "Mnnn." It was definitely nice. Harry yawned once more and snuggled on the bed feeling very comfortable and tired.

"We'll see. Sleep well, Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some random stuff about this chapter. The book that Tom was reading is real. I also did the math in the setting. Currently there's war brewing in the horizon although it doesn't really break out into the all out world war until Tom graduates from Hogwarts. Most of the stories I've read (here or in ffnet) seem to make it as a plot device so I thought it was important. I think I need to look it up if I want to make a realistic portrayal of the current setting :D which means research for me. Though if anyone can point me in the right direction, it'd be great :D.
> 
> The third chapter has not been written yet so hopefully I'll have it out by this coming weekend. Thank you to all of you who left kudos and comments. I really appreciate it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry begins to act like his age and Tom reveals a little of his true self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning, the chapter is a little dark.

"You just have to write your name here, and here."

'Harry Selwyn'

It was written on the cover of a book so he thought that it was a common enough name. He was pretty sure he heard of it before but he couldn't remember where. He thought of using his real name, Potter but there were a lot of Potters in the wizarding world. He was almost tempted to write it. It would have been a big middle finger to whoever sent him back in time. To fate. To death.

But Harry stopped himself because it would be too much of a bother to explain that it was just a coincidence. Not to mention, he still had features of the Potter line. Dark black hair. The angle of his jaw.

He wasn't very attached to his name anyway, and he was glad that whatever name he chose would provide him a degree of anonymity. No more of the fame, or the instant wide-eyed looks of awe.

"Sign here."

Harry signed with his chicken scratch writing, and handed the man the papers.

Then Martha helped him to the bathroom to do his business. Thankfully there was an attached bathroom, so he only had to be carted across a few steps. Yesterday it was Dennis who strapped on the cloth. He vowed to get his leg working once more and tried to avoid asking the disturbing question. What did they do when he was sleeping? He shuddered at the thought. He hoped he didn't soil the bed.

* * *

He worked on moving his legs. Up. Down.

He struggled at the pain of moving. Pinched nerves protested and blood was flowing back and forth his healing legs. They felt like pins and needles. He almost didn't want to see what they looked like underneath the bandages but he knew that they would heal eventually. For that reason alone, he was glad he was magical.

Exhausted, he flopped back on the bed. Harry was willing to guess that the reason why he couldn't call out for his magic was because of the state of his body. He should've died.

Then he focused inwards, trying to be hyperaware of what his magic was doing but couldn't accurately grasp what it felt like. Harry pursed his lips in concentration. It was just there. Somehow.

After long years of being an auror, it became a necessity to learn wandless magic. Too many times, the loss of his wand resulted to life threatening situations so he learned a few things here and there. How to light a fire, disarm, unlock, cut, and levitate objects. It was useful against people who tried to kill him… Harry nervously laughed at how the last time went. Then, he practiced spells like glamours, dillusionment, transfiguration and the rest. He figured he could almost do everything without a wand but it was incredibly taxing not to mention time consuming.

He'd been left with two wands but acquired a third simply because he didn't want to rely on the _elder wand_ or his phoenix wand which after some time, began to prove difficult to use. The unbeatable was too tempting and too powerful so he broke it.

Many times.

It always repaired itself as if mocking him. It was just like how he came back to life, forever seventeen after he supposedly _mastered_ the three. If he was cursed to live forever, he should have learned how to deal with it. He thought of the Flamels, or meeting vampires. He wanted to ask them how they dealt with immortality because it wasn't easy. He felt like he was left behind while the others seemed to move on and settled into the normal phase of life and of aging. Harry sighed. He still had no idea if he was immortal or if he was another monstrosity altogether.

The hours passed, and he was alone in the room. He never felt so bored in his entire life. It was almost like being locked in the cupboard where he imagined the spiders were his friends.

It was Monday so Harry knew the kids should be busy with their studies. No Amy, Dennis, or _god-forbid_ Tom in the next few hours. His chest tightened at the thought of the boy. Now that he thought about it, he was regretting his decision to be friends with Tom.

The boy spelt trouble. If Harry wanted a quiet life, he should've said no. He could've tried to be some nameless shadow in the world, eventually disappearing once he was able… so he could return back to his timeline without anyone knowing he ever left.

One look at the brilliance that was Tom Riddle and his apparent ability to _care_ won his heart though. He was curious too.

_'He's not that bad. Maybe I can change him? Maybe… if we stay friends, he won't become the dark lord?'_

Or the more damning reason.

' _Maybe I can redeem myself_.'

Harry slapped his hands to his cheeks and tried not to think of the man who haunted his nightmares.

He willed his magic to life.

 _'Come on_.'

He urged, and pleaded. He felt like he forgot something important in the process. What was the difference between mastering wandless magic and… ' _Oh._ '

'For Merlin's sake… I'm a kid…'

Harry felt like crying then. Almost. He'd never known anyone except _Tom Riddle_ who had an almost deadly mastery of magic at such an early age. A prodigy in raw form. Common people were not so blessed. Children were only known to use accidental magic since their core was still developing.

Harry scoffed. He was stubborn though. He would make it work. He didn't want to be a helpless weak kid who could do nothing to protect himself. His pride was on the line. He **had** to make it work.

So by sheer force of will, he desperately called out for it.

_Lumos._

_Light._

Light.

**Light.**

**.**

And it was _brilliant._

Green eyes lit up against the shimmer and Harry felt his breath come out in excited bursts. His hands shakily held a tiny ball of light, brighter than candle light. It was a white pale thing, and it filled him with so much happiness he started laughing. _Magic._ He was breathless and as light as a feather.

_"You're a wizard Harry."_

Harry watched as the light slowly disappeared. He almost forgot how amazing it was to have it. He felt like he'd taken it for granted that he could do things normal people can't. That he can make miracles and bend the laws of nature that only so few can. He wiped the sweat off his face and felt everything turn hazy.

'I think… I overdid it.'

* * *

There was a note by his bedside.

It read, 'There is food behind you. Eat. I'll see you later. –Tom'

True enough, there was food. Harry was surprised to see a peeled orange and some oats. It was cold but he dug in. He also drank water.

Then he felt like his bladder was going to burst. Fully aware of it, he looked at his legs. He knew he shouldn't but he felt incredibly queasy at the thought of having someone to clean him again.

Harry reasoned that he found his legs were better now and there was less pain. So, he swung them over the bed, slowly.

He tried to stand and fell. The sound of it was jarring to his ears and his cheek hurt.

He winced and tried to push his body off the floor, ending up on his knees. They trembled.

Harry started panicking but calmed down. He knew where it was. It would only take five seconds to go there on foot. He grasped the table beside the bed for support and stood up. He managed a few baby steps, gritting his teeth.

Once in the bathroom, he sighed and sat down. There was a mirror, and he looked at his cheek which was a bit red. He hoped it wouldn't bruise. Then he fingered his hair, wanting to chop the uneven strands. At least he could walk if that was called walking.

Going back to the bed was equally as arduous as getting out of it.

He almost stumbled when he heard the door open.

There was a hand on his back steadying him and a soft question of, "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I… had to go to the bathroom."

Tom guided him back on the bed and frowned at him, "You shouldn't push yourself too hard. You're going to ruin my work."

Then Tom inspected him. His eyes zeroed on the cheek, and he reached out to touch it.

"What is this?"

Harry bit his lip, "I fell. When I was trying to get up."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Look. I didn't want…anyone cleaning up after me. I justreallywanted…topee-"

Harry flushed at this. Tom seemed to find this amusing. "I see. Just ask Martha. She'd be all too happy to help you."

' _Why are you so bloody perfect?'_

"Look at me, Harry."

Harry wasn't even aware that he was looking away. Tom was silent for a moment.

"I'm glad you can walk now… but you _shouldn't_ be walking around and hurting yourself."

Harry felt his mouth dry at the concern and hated how all of it made perfect sense. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tom continued.

"You had a fever again last night. I tried waking you up, but you wouldn't wake."

"Tom-"

"What were you doing yesterday?"

Tom was angry. He could tell it from the way his voice shook but the boy tried to act composed. In comparison to him, Harry felt like he was just a bundle of frazzled nerves.

"Have you taken a look at your leg?"

Harry was annoyed now, at not being able to speak and being repeatedly cut off. He felt hate then. Hate at having to be berated by the boy who grew up to murder his family and make his life a living hell. He hated that Tom could make him feel guilty.

"What is it to you?" Harry almost shouted.

"What is it-"

Recklessly, Harry offered, "I'll show you."

Harry called it out.

The little ball of white that filled him with glee the day before lit up the room in the afternoon sun. It left the shadows dancing and Harry felt momentary triumph.

' _See! I can do it too.'_

Tom took his hand, and Harry watched, with eyes half lidded in exhaustion as Tom called forth something… _dark_ and heavy. How could the magic be so tainted when Tom was just a kid?

"Stop it."

He could hear Tom's voice as if he was speaking in his head.

_"You're doing it wrong, Harry."_

The light was snuffed out and hands curled around this possessively. They seemed so much larger than his.

"What does this prove Harry? It just proves that you're reckless. You don't need to show me when I already know."

He could feel Tom's magic coiling like a snake around the room and around his body and settling there like a blanket. Harry felt numb. He wanted to speak his heart out. Tell the boy how he'd grow into a monster. He wondered if Tom would believe him.

"I know what you are. I knew it the moment I saw you."

"You're lying."

Harry felt the violent need to run away. He pulled hard and with his other hand, he moved to pry the boy's hand. He struggled. Tom watched him dispassionately and Harry felt like a misbehaving animal. Harry scratched him. He watched the skin tear and blood come out and yet Tom still held on.

"I want to go home." A small quiet voice.

"You have _no_ home-"

Harry felt like he was slapped on the face. It was true. Home was a hundred years in the future.

"but… you have me. We're the _same_."

"We're not… you're a-"

_'Monster.'_

Harry bit his lip. Tom splayed his fingers open. Harry was transfixed at how easy it was for the other boy to bleed. "Harry, how can you think so poorly of me…"

Tom twined their fingers together so their hands were linked "-when I've been nothing but kind to you? It's unfair."

Harry glared.

"Stop reading my mind."

"Then stop being stupid."

"I'm not stupid."

"You are and you know it."

Tom seemed to frown and he pushed himself away.

He sat by the bedside looking at their fingers.

"I will take care of you."

"No."

"It wasn't a question."

The boy seemed to close off.

The door locked itself on its own, and the blinds slid shut.

Harry felt a hand cover his mouth, and he screamed when Tom Riddle unwrapped the bandages on his leg with a mere wave of his hand. He was panting when the boy set to work.

"This is your fault. You should have stayed put. Then, it wouldn't have to hurt so much."

Harry dared to look and saw yellow, flakey dead skin, and red, and cuts and he closed his eyes.

"I hate you."

* * *

So the cat was out of the bag. He never intended to hide something that was obvious. Magic.

He stayed put in bed and mulled over why Tom wanted to take care of him. He never needed that. In both lives, he felt like the world had its way with him and all he could do was go with the flow.

It came as a shock that he would feel genuine concern coming from Tom Riddle.

But he messed up. He had to fix things.

Waiting for him was painstakingly nerve wracking

He followed Tom's advice and learned that asking Martha for help made life easier. He had at least someone check on him every hour and she agreed that it was easier than having to clean him up. All they had to do was carry him to the bathroom, or help him walk. Amy and Dennis came to visit from time to time and laughed at his apparent embarrassment. They went on to say that they had a resident orphan who was worse, older who still kept on soiling his bed.

Before he knew it, a week had passed. He could now walk as he pleased.

"Hey," Harry greeted.

Tom placed the food tray on the bedside without a glance.

"Tom?"

Harry resisted the urge to squirm.

"I'm sorry."

Harry thought about the words he'd practiced in his head, but somehow, they wouldn't come out. Instead, "You're right… I was stupid… you were just worried.. and you wanted to help me… and I don't know why you want to… and I thought of you as a monster… But you're not. You're just a kid like me… but you were right and I hated that... I don't… hate you. So I'm sorry…" It felt lame. Why was he even apologizing?

"I know."

"Are… you still mad?"

"No."

"Then?"

Tom stopped moving and took a seat.

"You don't look sorry."

Harry shook his head. "I am. I hurt you."

"Yes. You did."

Harry knew he took out his frustrations on the worst person who didn't really deserve it. Tom wasn't Voldemort yet. He wasn't the reason why he was in this mess. Harry felt genuinely sorry. He had no one else to blame.

"Do friends hurt each other, Harry?"

Harry winced and thought of Ron and Hermione and said, "yes… you tend to fight a lot with them too."

Tom asked him, "How do you know? Do you have other friends?"

"There's you, Amy and Dennis. I used to have other friends, but they're gone."

"Gone? Where did they go, Harry?" Tom's voice lilted. His eyes were cold.

"Far. Someplace I can't see them."

Tom moved closer.

"Is it ok to hurt you?"

Harry stared. He stared at the healing cut on Tom's right hand. He did that. Harry's knuckles went white, gripping the blanket.

"It's not. It's not something you just do. You don't do it because you want to hurt someone because that's… not right. That's why I'm saying sorry."

Tom tilted his head, "What if someone hurt you? Do you think it's okay to hurt them back?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"It's not… healthy to hurt other people." Harry paused at this. "Especially if you're close. It's best to fix things."

"So _this_ is your attempt at fixing things?"

Harry nodded and sighed. "I'm not very good at fixing things." Harry let go of the blanket, a threadbare thing. His nails left half crescent marks on his palm. "I do know that…"

"Other people will hurt you… but I think you only hurt yourself more when you try to get even… because it becomes a cycle."

Tom turned away, and he could see the boy smiling. "You don't really know do you?"

The windows rattled. "I know Amy and Dennis told you about me. I like to hurt people, Harry. It's easy. I can do it without touching them. They fear me, so they leave me alone."

Harry felt the urge to touch Tom then, to reach out but faltered. Something in the air felt dangerous.

"For you, it's different. I don't know what it is with you that makes you special. I thought it's because we are similar… but you're weak."

Harry couldn't breathe then and he remembered the hands that strangled him. This tiny starved body of his, up against the wall, strangled and thrown around like a rag doll.

Harry froze when Tom cupped his face. Green eyes were wide open. So close to him, he could see flecks of red in them.

"…there is something in you that calls out to me. Do you feel it?"

_Horcrux. The festering soul inside him that belonged to Voldemort._

"No."

Breathe… In. Out.

"How unfortunate."

The thumb was smoothing over the purple bruise on his cheek. "I forgive you, Harry. So don't be scared. Just don't do it again."

Harry could almost feel the greed coming off the other boy. There was something in the way the boy was looking at him that he felt like he was about to be devoured.

* * *

They walked hand in hand. Harry pretended not to notice as everyone else moved out of the way. There were whispers. The fourth floor was a long corridor of rooms. Children were peeking out of the doors with curiosity in their night clothes. They shut the doors close when Harry and Tom got too near. Even the older ones. There were so many of them. He shivered since it seemed colder than the lower floors. The heater probably didn't work as well.

Tom Riddle's room was smaller than the clinic. There were red bricks that lined the lower half of the room while pale yellow paint covered the top. The ceiling was wooden. A window faced another brick wall, blocking the view except of what little he could see from the grounds and snow.

There was a study table stashed right next to a cabinet by the door. There were two beds almost next to each other and space enough for one person to walk in between. It felt cramped. He imagined what the room would have looked like without the new bed. Tom asked for this for him.

For some reason, Harry felt something warm bloom from inside him.

"We'll have to share the cabinet. There's not much inside, so there's room for your stuff."

Harry put his clothes inside and tried not to stare at the cardboard box that he knew was filled with other children's stuff. _Trophies_ , Albus Dumbledore said.

Tom began reading a book.

Harry sat on the bed, and it squeaked a little. The mattress was a little thin, but it was comfortable enough to use. Then, without much to do, he meditated. He remembered Snape's words, ' _I told you to empty yourself of emotion! ... Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!_ '

He laughed at how true that was. Emptying himself of emotion took some time. He did practice and setting himself into that trance like state was like relearning how to ride a bike.

He rid himself of the residual hate he felt for the boy, of the fear that was constantly gnawing at his insides at being left alone in the past, of the regret, and longing that filled him of home, of the sadness of his inability to control his own life.

He inhaled and exhaled.

That was all he did.

He felt a semblance of control return. He then sifted through the memories. There were painful ones, but there were happy ones too.

Henry Price's earliest memory was being abandoned in the market place. He called out for his mother, a woman with brown hair, and black eyes who told him he had to be a good boy and wait there. Soon, the minutes turned into hours. After a day, he saw other children who told him he was abandoned. The children only had each other while they lived in the slums. At three, he was scavenging for food and he was hungry. It was the type of hunger that burned and twisted something inside of him in painful knots. It hurt more when he ate. His friends thought they could survive. Then a kind old man decided to take him in. He gave him a name.

It was his first memory of love in this life. He grew to love the old man who was kinder than any he'd ever remembered. He proudly called the man _father_.

Then he lost his job.

Harry had other memories. He focused on the one he had with Albus Dumbledore.

_"Being the master of death is quite tricky, but I assure you, it will never do anything for you that you do not want."_

Harry pondered on what was it that he wanted that death recognized.

He didn't know. He wanted to meet this mysterious being 'Death' but did not know how to communicate with it. If there was no other way, he could always attempt suicide.

Harry certainly hadn't done anything so drastic before. Learning how to control the hallows was something he never wanted to do. It was as dark as they could get. That he became a master of death was quite telling.

He watched his other life play out but something felt wrong. It took a moment for him to realize how memories tend to be forgotten and he vowed to never forget his life as Harry Potter.

Now he was Harry Selwyn, just another orphan child.

He realized he had no other choice but to accept the help that was offered to him. He had no resources, and no name. Having no name meant that he had no family. He had to start from the ground up. When he had access to a wand, the resources, he could plan. He just needed to be patient.

He opened his eyes and Tom was there, in front of him.

"Fascinating…"

He felt something unwelcome slither inside his head. Hissing. Tom smiled.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing."

Harry looked away but he was suddenly being pulled away from the comfort of his bed. He absently realized that it was already dark outside and his eyes were heavy. All of a sudden, he was aware of how cold his body was and sneezed.

"You're freezing. I should have realized sooner."

Tom patted his bed, the thicker blankets were raised by a hand and it looked inviting, "Come, Harry."

In a daze and exhausted, Harry climbed and squeezed himself against the wall. "You don't take up much space… relax." Tom laughed, and there it was again. The hand that carded through his hair.

Harry looked at him and asked. "Why do you want to take care of me?"

Tom closed his book. The boy put it on their shared night stand and the fingers stilled.

"At first, I simply wanted to know more about you." Tom resumed his petting, and watched the boy's eyes slide shut. "You were so weak, barely hanging on to life. I thought you would die so I made sure you would live."

Harry murmured, "It wasn't the doctors then…?"

Tom slid behind him. "They had their uses but there was only so much they could do. Then you woke up all broken. I wanted to fix you."

"Fix me? I'm not a thing, Tom."

"I know. You're my friend Harry. I like to keep my friends safe." Tom wrapped his arms around the smaller boy.

Harry was surprised and asked, "You have other friends?"

Tom whispered in his ear. "Yes. Is it surprising?" Arms that wrapped around him seemed to tighten, and Harry thought that Tom had no idea of physical boundaries as a child.

It was warm though and comfortable. It somehow felt _safe_.

"I'll teach you how to use your gift."

Harry didn't respond to this.

"If you don't learn to protect yourself, they'll happily ruin you."

"They? What do you mean by that, Tom?"

Harry turned around to face the other boy.

"Those who aren't like _usss._ "

"I don't like hurting people."

"You hurt me."

"I didn't mean to."

"I know." Tom smiled at him, and Harry felt his magic, heavy. "If you meant it, you wouldn't be here now."

It was a threat.

* * *

Eating breakfast in the cafeteria was a welcome change to eating in the clinic. The cafeteria was full. He tried to look for the familiar faces of the other children who helped take care of him. He spotted a few who were busy eating. Then he saw Amy and Dennis. He waved a hand.

He was going to come over when they looked away, whispering amongst themselves. "Harry." Tom asked for him, impatient. Harry promised to talk to Amy and Dennis later.

Harry hurried after Tom who began lining up.

Once in line, the pleasant smell of food filled his nostrils. He squinted his eyes and saw something he liked.

It was his turn to be served.

"Martha." Harry greeted.

"Better eat up, Harry. We need to fatten you up."

Harry's eyes lit up at the butter and bread. There were scrambled eggs and bacon. It was a pretty good meal. A glass was given to him, "Just line up over there for water."

"Thanks."

Harry followed Tom.

They sat on the empty table somewhere near the exit of the hall. Harry figured there was around close to a hundred of them eating together, more boys than girls.

Tom handed him a spoon and fork, and Harry began to eat with relish.

It tasted as good as it looked and he finished way faster than what was proper. Tom ate at a sedate pace.

"I'll just say hi to Amy and Dennis." Harry said, grabbing the tray. He left without bothering to take a glance and gave the plate to Martha who seemed to approve of his eating habits. Then, he made his way to Amy and Dennis.

He sat on the table that was occupied by three others.

"Hi."

"Harry," Amy greeted but was not meeting him in the eye.

"Harry is it true, that you're friends with Riddle?" Dennis asked, his voice harsh. Harry felt all the eyes turn at their table and he said, "Yes. He's my friend. What's wrong?"

An older kid who sat beside Dennis made a face, "Then are you like him? Are you a _little freak_ too?"

Harry felt his smile falter. The other kid who spoke would have looked handsome if not for the burn that ran across the right side of his face, disfiguring it.

"He's a freak. I bet. It takes one to know one." Another boy muttered.

"Do I look like one?" Harry asked, his voice rising to a pitch.

"You don't have to look like one… but maybe you already are. You look like a girl."

Harry felt his face burn in embarrassment, and he stood up.

"Got yer knickers in a twist? What? Are you too scared to speak up?"

"I'm not." Harry turned to Amy, "Just because I'm friends with Tom doesn't change anything."

"It does," Wilson stood up, and standing up, the boy was a full head taller than him. The boy pushed him and Harry stumbled. He held on to the table.

"Wilson." It was a harsh whisper.

Dennis motioned with his eyes at the approaching figure and Wilson turned to face Harry. Hate and disgust. Harry never did anything to him but it was there. He knew that look.

"Better watch your back, freak."

Harry was surprised when he felt a hand grab his. He felt and saw all the eyes look at him and just like before, they had no decency to be discreet about it. Whispers chased them out the hall.

Tom dragged him out without a word. Once they were out of earshot he began, "That's Wilson. You should stay away from him."

Harry was silent.

"What did you do to him?"

Tom smirked, "You saw his face?"

Harry took a step back, "That's cruel."

Tom's look darkened, "Well he got what he deserved. He killed a friend of mine."

Harry faltered and looked at Tom in concern. He then remembered the boy's words last night.

"It was a long time ago. Come with me. I want to show you something."

The doors to the outside left Harry staring at the sea of white.

They went out in the snow and approached a shed. Tom kept him close and their shoes made tracks against the snow. It was too cold.

Inside the shed, it was a little warmer. Tom locked it. He motioned for Harry to come nearer

They were squatting on the floor when Tom levitated a piece of floorboard off and dug his hands inside.

" _Wake up little one, I brought a friend. He's the one I spoke of._ "

_"Master… master is here!"_

_"Don't make so much noise, you'll wake the others."_

Harry shivered and was filled with dread. He _lost_ the ability to speak to snakes after losing the horcrux. He was stupefied as he watched the two converse. He felt sick.

Was it alive? Inside of him?

" _Let me feel him."_ The tiny snake demanded.

Tom paused. He turned to look at Harry. Harry's heart was beating very fast.

"It won't bite, Harry. Just stay still and give me your hand."

Harry went on autopilot. Tom guided the small thing with his arm very gently. Harry watched as Tom very carefully stroked the scales and spoke to it. It was bewildering, how different Tom acted around a snake in comparison to how he dealt with other children. Tom Riddle almost looked loving.

"It might feel weird at first but she's harmless."

Harry held out his hand, and watched the snake wrap around his wrist and then settle on his arm. It felt smooth and slippery.

" _He's hurt. I smell blood. So warm. I like him."_ The snake hissed and moved its head left and right.

" _He smells like you… master."_

 _"No I don't."_ Harry said, mortified.

Tom looked at him, moving closer, eyes dilated against the darkness. " _Harry."_

 _"You spoke to it… You really are full of surprises aren't you?_ "

* * *

****

**What Harry kinda looks like.** (I just edited the photo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt nervous writing this chapter but I did enjoy it. I think, magic is something amazing that most people in the wizarding world take for granted.
> 
> Random: While reading through some articles, I came across a story from WWII about the kid who stayed in Writtle Orphanage. Apparently, even though the times were harsh, people from the orphanage still managed to eat three times a day and it wasn't entirely bad. Still reading up though.
> 
> As for Tom and Harry's interactions which was for the greater part of the chapter, I had something else in mind but while writing, this happened. Hopefully the next few chapters would feel lighter and happier... I hope.
> 
> I've edited this chapter thanks to TheBlueMenace. Originally, a part of this chapter had someone call Harry a 'poof'. If you haven't asked that question, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of reading all those articles <3\. So, here's what I've learned. During the 1930s or during the period between WWI and WWII, homosexuality was more or less common but it was in the 1940s and 1950s that homosexuals had been actively prosecuted. Homosexuality hasn't even been coined or actively used but there was the word homo or sodomite. The more common term for them back then was 'queer'. I think I was wrong for using the word poof and pansy. Some people say the word poof existed but on the safer side, I'll use queer in the future.
> 
> Now, it was a don't ask, don't tell period, where people generally kept things a secret. Most people never even understood that they were homosexual since there was no formal education for it. It was still illegal. People still hated homosexuals and some even vomited at the thought gay sexual intercourse. The law made it very clear. However, you could be gay in the open. As long as you did not commit sexual acts, you will not be punished. Thus, there were males wearing female clothing and putting on makeup. Still, people treated you differently for these quirks and from some clips I watched, you could be bullied for being different. So people could still bully you for being queer or looking like it but since there was not much awareness of it during that time (until the 1940s), I'll probably avoid it. Kids can be evil though so we'll just have to see.
> 
> Now, it was because of the great depression that women were found to be wearing men's clothing and the effete feminine/androgynous pretty boys became a standard of beauty. So, in this way, Harry's androgynous looking appearance is probably something appealing *-*. *Deep breath* There's more.
> 
> You wouldn't be hanged (the common punishment for crime) but you could be imprisoned for life or a few years. With some, there was the alternative chemical castration just like with Alan Turing. You guys should watch the movie the Imitation Game. It's amazing. Anyway, they called the crime gross indecency.
> 
> To those of you who are still with me, I hope you liked it. Let me know your thoughts. I'd even appreciate knowing what you didn't like, constructive criticism, or which parts you want to improve etc. Thank you again to those who did leave comments, kudos and bookmarks. You people make my day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is in trouble and a bit of the plot is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoys this. I'm not sure if I can update by the next weekend since I'll be busy fixing stuff. Oh, and today's my birthday yey *-* I'm hoping I don't break my neck later. Everyone else is telling me that it's fine to go out and have fun but a part of me just wants to stay at home and hide.
> 
> That aside, I dedicate this chapter to asyad09. I guess it was impossible to really get it right, but you got it mostly right :D so cheers! Please don't read the comments if you don't want spoilers.
> 
> Also, this chapter is not written in chronological order but I think it's easy enough to follow.

_**It was dark with barely any space to move around in. His head hurt from the blow that struck his head.** _

Harry knew he should have listened to Tom. He was naïve enough to believe that they wouldn't go this far.

His hands were tied up behind him, and his feet, the same. They stuffed a gag to keep him from making a sound, or a sound that was loud enough to alert the others. The only thing he could do was try to bump against the confines of the cabinet which was locked.

"mmnphhh."

Harry tried to imagine the ropes getting cut, and the cabinet door unlocking but he couldn't. He knew the spell. Alohamora… but it didn't work.

He heard laughter. They rattled the cabinet, and Harry whimpered inside. Soon the boys grew bored and he was left alone in the cramped space. He didn't know how long he was left there… but he knew he was hungry, and it hurt, and he felt like he was suffocating from the tiny space.

Then it was white.

It was the train station again with its muted gray colors and Harry found himself stumbling forward when a body bumped into him.

He was pushed into different directions, stumbling sideways, forwards and backwards.

There were a lot of people. The train station seemed busy with more dead people than he cared to imagine.

His small body pushed against the crowd and he kept going until he found a place where there were less of them.

He wondered if he was dead. He thought he might have had a concussion and he slipped into unconsciousness… but maybe he underestimated the extent of his injuries.

Unsure of what to do, he called out.

"Death…? Are you there… Why am I here? Someone? Anyone? Hello?"

Harry felt stupid after saying the words when nothing happened. He examined the busy train station and pondered if there was a way to go forward in time, wherever he was.

He settled down on the floor and when he turned to look around he saw someone familiar.

"Tom?" Harry asked in wonder.

The boy seemed to be sleeping and unaware. They were both leaning against one of the pillars.

He started thinking of all the possibilities of why Tom was there with him but nothing forthcoming was helpful. He shook him awake and it took a while to coax the boy back into consciousness.

Tom woke up.

"Harry?" The boy whispered then groaned in protest. Tom seemed to recoil away from the light and swatted Harry's hands away when Harry impatiently started to shake him again. "Stop it," the boy murmured.

Harry frowned and asked, "Tom… why are you here?"

The boy's fingers twitched and he couldn't hide the struggle it took to control it. It felt as if the boy was relearning how to move. It was like watching a doll come to life.

"Where is here? Harry...?" The breathy words came. It was so soft.

Harry struggled for words, "It's… I think we're stuck in between the land of the living and the dead."

The other boy sighed. "So does this mean, I'm dead?" Tom's voice was stronger this time and the trembling stopped.

Harry pondered, "I'm not sure… maybe I'm dreaming because I know you're not supposed to be here. How long has it been for you, Tom?"

"Long… I can't tell." Tom opened his eyes and it looked as gray and dull as the rest of the place. Then, he looked at the crowd, "You?"

"I just got here."

Harry knew it must be disorienting to wake up in a train station filled with ghosts.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember searching for you… and Wilson."

Harry felt something like fear and hate creep up on him at the mention of the name.

Harry felt like it was all his fault, that somehow Tom died because of him. He looked down and said, "I'm sorry… I should have listened to you… I thought that if I tried enough, Amy and Dennis will see reason."

Tom took his hand.

"It's alright. Harry," The boy pulled him closer.

Arms wrapped around him and Harry thought it was comfortable.

"You seem to know more than what I know. Do you come here often, Harry?"

Harry couldn't control his tongue and said, "Only when I die."

"...and how many times did you die?"

"I don't know… the curses don't seem to work on me but if I count how many times I've seen the station," Harry paused and counted in his head, "this is the seventh time."

The arms tightened.

"Seven…"

Harry listened, but he felt no heartbeat coming from the other boy and it was strangely quiet. The sound of the station seemed muted.

"Tom…?" Harry shivered when the other boy stroked his back.

"You think this is a dream?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you stay here with me, Harry? It feels lonely here… waiting."

Harry felt something was wrong but it was all wrapped up in the haze and concern he felt for the other boy. "I don't know if I can. I have to go back, Tom."

"Then, take me with you?"

"I don't know if it's possible."

"It is."

Harry felt shock. Was it even possible? Somehow… somehow something felt very wrong.

"How… do you know that, Tom?" Harry demanded, and pushed away from the embrace and froze when he saw blood red eyes.

* * *

**A few days ago.**

Their knees were touching.

" _Do you think there are others like us who can speak to snakes?"_

At the back of his mind, Harry knew this was bad.

" _We won't know until we find others."_

" _Master?"_ The snake hissed, annoyed that it was forgotten.

Tom turned to look at the her and hissed, " _We shared a bed, little one. It is why he has my scent._ "

Tom caressed the tip of the snake's head as it responded, " _Is this human, yours master?"_

" _Mine?"_

" _Is he your mate?"_

Harry blushed at this, mouth dry and began to intervene. " _We are_ _ **not**_ _mates. It was cold so Tom offered to… share... Body heat..."_ Harry made a face at this.

The snake made an unintelligible sound, and settled around Harry's shoulders.

" _I do not understand your ways, human, but I do not like the cold."_

Harry grinned, " _I don't like it too."_

It was surreal in a way. He ended up fully sitting on the floor and reaching out for the snake who happily settled on his lap. " _Warmth. So warm~_ "

Tom was silent for awhile.

"She likes you."

Harry just grinned.

Moments passed. Tom sat next to him, his cloak around both of their forms to keep them warm.

"Have you thought about learning how to use it?" Tom asked, and the boy lazily lifted a hand, swirling the dust in the air. The fine particles glittered against the light.

"Yes."

"We can begin now, if you like."

"Ok."

"The first thing you must understand is what you're doing wrong. Harry, what do you think of when you conjure that light of yours?"

Harry pondered at the question and said, "I think of light."

"Is that all?" Tom asked, unimpressed.

"Yes…"

"Then… perhaps you'd care to tell me how much you want that light to appear. Were you desperate?"

"I just thought I wanted it to appear. I wanted it more than anything."

"You should know that, being desperate will not make anything happen."

"But it did appear!"

"And you collapsed."

Harry frowned. He opened his mouth but Tom touched his lips.

"It's because you lack control and your gift doesn't know what to do. Your light had no purpose, no meaning."

As if to add insult to injury, Tom conjured a ball of light above the tip of his finger with the same one that touched his lips. The light began to move and it was fluttering in the air like a pretty firefly before dying out.

Harry thought about it. Magic was just something he was born with and when he learned how to use spells and wands, the incantations that removed the difficulty of accessing the well of power within him, he stopped thinking about how it all came to be. When he learned wandless magic, he merely had incantations in his head that forced them to work. Tom didn't use that. What he had was the innate ability to control it without a need of a wand or spells. It felt interesting and frustrating at the same time.

"When you think of light, I'd like you to go past thinking of the word. I want you," Tom paused, as if looking for the right word, "-to imagine it. Think of what shape it should form, what color it should have. Think of how small or how big it has to be. What do you want it to do, besides providing light? Close your eyes and hold out your hand."

He did all that. Harry began to imagine how his light should form. The other boy's presence was soothing, and with his continued guidance, he began to imagine yellow globe. He wanted it to be as small as the first one he made, not blinding.

"Where do you want the light to appear? Do you want it to stay on your hand? Do you want it to float? Do you want it to be warm… or cold? When you know what kind of light it is… I want you to believe that when you open your eyes, it will be there."

" _Open your eyes, Harry_." Tom hissed in parseltongue.

Harry opened his eyes and saw without a doubt a small globe of light. It flickered and died out.

Tom looked pleased and amused. Harry frowned.

"You just need practice."

"That's easy for you to say."

Tom was quiet and reached out for the snake on Harry's lap. The snake stirred. It seemed to have fallen asleep and Tom levitated it, bringing it back to its nest and motioned for the floorboards to cover it.

"You need it because you're weak. I won't be there to protect you all the time."

"I'm not weak." Harry muttered, mutinously.

Tom looked at him from head to toe and Harry felt as if he was being appraised like an insect.

"What will you do when I'm not with you? What if _they_ manage to corner you?"

"I'll run."

"With the way your legs are?"

"They're fine now."

"…They don't look fine to me."

Harry bristled. Tom tilted his head by just a fraction and there was an infinitesimal way in how the magic warped around him.

"Let's say you can't run. What do you do then?"

"I'll scream for help."

Tom grinned. "What if no one hears you? What if no one comes to help?"

Harry let out a breath knowing the familiar feeling of being helpless. He knew Tom was right though. It was better safe than sorry. "What makes you so sure that they'll come after me?"

"You already know this. I can read minds. Trust me when I tell you to stay away."

* * *

Tom set out some ground rules that he had to follow. Bathing had to be done early in the morning before the others were awake. It was imperative they were together and if Harry wasn't with Tom, he had to stay locked up in the room. Tom was so protective that he informed Martha and Mrs. Cole that Harry couldn't do any of the chores yet since he was still recovering. They accepted this without much to say.

It wasn't that bad, at least in Harry's terms.

They tripped him, and called him names. They bumped into him, and outright shoved him left and right. Sometimes, they'd pull at his hair. They did it when Tom wasn't looking.

Harry kept quiet about it.

It was hard but he had the patience.

During classes, he would sometimes find some of his things missing so he made sure to take his bag with him. They made a mess of the work he did so sometimes he had to rewrite his assignments twice.

He never responded which seemed to agitate them further.

Those who weren't from the orphanage seemed friendly enough. Classes with them was something he looked forward to because it wasn't a mix of accusing stares and glares.

Coming back to their room meant Tom would force him to practice his magic but there was little progress with it

Naturally, Harry didn't appreciate this and after two weeks, he sought out Amy despite Tom's warnings.

He found her sitting alone in the playroom.

"Amy!"

Harry greeted. The girl seemed to perk up.

"Harry… you shouldn't be here."

"I know. Tom would kill me."

Amy just felt sad and said, "How can you be friends with him, Harry?"

"I just am. Tom can be nice."

"He's only nice to you. You don't know what he's really like."

"No I don't. Why don't you tell me?" Harry smiled.

"I shouldn't-"

"He's not here. I promise I won't let him know."

Amy seemed to stare a little and Harry caught her looking at the door and the windows, all fidgety.

"He cut my hair once. I had really long hair."

Amy made a gesture with her hands going from the top of her head and ending at her hips.

"About this long. Everyone loved it. I thought Tom liked it too, because he looked at it often. I just wanted to be friends with him, Harry… and one day he said we should go somewhere to talk and I went with him. We went to the girl's lavatory when no one was around. Then, he took out some scissors and began cutting it. He told me, my hair wasn't really that pretty and that I was annoying everyone for showing it around."

"He said… really mean things… like I was ugly and no one would adopt me."

"Do you think I'm ugly Harry?"

"No… no you're not."

Amy looked grateful and pulled herself together.

"I heard stories… and they were so terrible… When you came here, he told me to keep quiet. He made me promise not to tell you or anyone."

"Then why are you telling me?"

Amy seemed troubled, "because I like you. You shouldn't have to put up with him. You can stay with us, and I'm sure the others would stop hurting you."

Harry felt disturbed.

"Is this what it's all for? You can't hurt Tom so you're hurting me?"

"I don't know… but they don't like Tom. He's cruel."

"Then, you lied to me back then when you told me he's okay? That he wasn't that bad?"

"Yes, I lied. We don't know when he's listening. He always seems to know things. I don't want you to stay with him… Please Harry? He'll hurt you too."

"Tom won't hurt me and I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you."

Amy looked as if she didn't believe him so he pressed on. "What else? What else do you know about Tom?" Harry sat closer. The girl swallowed and began to recount the tales.

"You probably know about Wilson. They say it was an accident… but it always happens to people he doesn't like. Billy, he's the quiet kid… you don't know him yet… but he had a pet rabbit before. It hanged itself… but," Amy laughed a little nervously, "a rabbit can't do that on its own! Someone must have done it but no one can climb that high."

Amy's voice was close to a whisper. "There's just no way. No one could have."

The girl played with her fingers and looked uncomfortable as she continued, "We asked around but we know it was him. We just have no proof. Ian broke a leg after falling from the stairs. He said he felt someone push him but there was no one there and not just him. They said those who tried to hurt Tom, those who called him a freak… they just start getting sick, getting all these accidents and… it's not normal. I don't know really know if the stories are true but there's a lot of them. They also think it's Tom who stole my teddy… it was a gift from my mom, before she died."

Harry felt a headache. How mean can a child be?

"Harry. I'll ask Mrs. Cole. I think she'll let you leave the room and there's plenty of space with the others. They'll help-"

"No… no it's ok, Amy. I'm just glad you're talking to me. Why don't we meet here again tomorrow? I'll see if I can find your bear and if I do, I'll give it back to you."

He left the girl, despite her protests.

* * *

He opened the cabinet and saw the cardboard box.

True enough there was a brown bear with glass eyes inside. Harry wasn't sure what to do. He promised Amy in a righteous fit of anger, but it was equally wrong to just touch Tom's things without permission. He waited for him.

When Tom came back from the library, he had the snake with him.

Harry walked back and forth and he kept pacing until Tom dragged him to bed. They sat together, and the snake settled underneath the pillow.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"I want Amy's teddy bear." Harry blurted it out and Tom froze.

"You went through my things."

"Yes… I did, I'm sorry."

" _I should punish you_."

Harry turned to look at the other boy and said, "Fine. If that will keep you happy then go ahead and hurt me, but I want Amy's toy. I want to give it back to her."

"Is that so?"

Harry felt the first pinpricks of pain at his fingertips but before it could get any further, the pain stopped.

"Why do you care so much for her? She's different from us yet you still want her around you."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then explain."

"Just because Amy can't do magic doesn't mean she's different from us."

Tom's gaze sharpened. "She **is** different and you'll only hurt yourself if you get closer. If she finds out about us, do you think she'll keep it a secret? They'll lock us up. Do you want that to happen?"

"They won't lock us up. Don't be absurd Tom. I can't even use it properly so of course I won't show off around her. And you… You have perfect control. I don't know why you're so paranoid." Harry clenched his hands itching to tell Tom that there were others like them, who made sure that if ever someone performs magic, they can be obliviated.

"As for Amy, she's just a kid like us. She wanted to be your friend but you pushed her away. You called her ugly and you took away her stuffed toy. It's why they don't like you."

"I loathe her and everyone else."

"Fine, you don't like her, but I do and I think you're jealous."

Tom had a nasty look on his face. Harry took his hand.

"It's normal to feel jealous, but it doesn't mean you can hurt them for it."

"I don't understand why this is important to you."

Harry reflected on what Amy said and shook his head. "It's because I care about Amy."

Tom turned icy. "Why?"

"I just do. It's just like how you care for me… and I care for both of you."

Tom seemed to struggle for words.

"Ok… what if you gave me something. I treasured it. Then somebody stole it."

Harry was around long enough to know the boy felt agitated at the thought.

"See? It's like that."

"No. You're confusing things. It's not that simple. I still don't like her and I don't want to give it back. It's mine now."

Harry shivered at the feel of Tom's magic. It was positively violent. Sometimes he wished he was physically older and stronger so he could make Tom listen to him.

Tom continued, "You haven't stayed here long enough to notice but it's rare to have toys let alone anything that came from your parents and she shows it to everyone."

Harry remembered the cupboard painfully and thought he could relate to the feeling. He knew the unspoken message ' _I don't have one_.' By that logic, if he didn't have one, then no one should.

He felt tired. Tom was stubborn. So Harry pulled the other boy closer and wrapped him in a hug. This broke the sudden swirling tempest of magic and he almost wanted to smile at the look of shock on Tom's face.

"I promise I won't leave you, not for Amy or for anyone… if that's what you're scared of. You're my first friend here and unless something really bad happens, that won't. Ever. Change. I know you don't really care about the toy… and it's just sitting there in the box. Can't you do it for me Tom? Please?"

Tom considered this and returned the hug stiffly.

"You promise you won't leave?"

Harry nodded. "I swear."

"…I'll give it back, on one condition, you must give me something in return… but I get to decide what it is and when I'll have it."

Harry smiled. "Ok."

Tom slowly pushed himself away, and left the bed. Harry followed him close by.

From inside, he plucked the toy and handed it over.

"Thanks Tom."

* * *

Handing the bear to Amy was supposed to be a happy occasion. It felt like it was the proof of Tom's humanity. It was also a good deed. Harry knew that he didn't have to do it, but he couldn't get rid of his _saving people thing_.

It was just that, no matter how long he waited that afternoon, Amy wasn't there.

When she did appear, there was Wilson, Dennis and a bunch of other older boys.

"Get him."

Harry knew he'd been betrayed. He didn't have a chance to run when they whacked him on the head and everything turned blurry.

How they reached the attic without anyone else knowing was beyond him, but Harry was only half-aware of it. He could feel blood trickling and when they shoved him inside the tiny wooden cabinet, he could only, blink back the tears.

_It was dark with barely any space to move around in. His head hurt from the blow that struck his head._

* * *

Harry gasped, eyes wide open and afraid, but of what, he didn't know. He tried to remember where he was. His body hurt from being forced to stand in such an uncomfortable position and moving it radiated pain.

When the cabinet door opened, he went with it and Harry closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable fall. Someone caught him.

"Harry, look at you. I told you this would happen but you wouldn't listen."

He was shaking when Tom lowered him on the floor and began untying the ropes. "Were you scared?"

The gag came off.

"I'm fine…"

Harry felt an inexplicable pull then. Something called out to him, and before he knew it, he was holding Tom's hand and tugging the boy closer. He felt a wave of calm, and of warmth… He didn't want to let go. He felt complete.

"It's alright… don't worry. They won't hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks :D. Let me know your thoughts. As for the next chapter... expect a bit of violence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a glimpse of the slightly disturbing thoughts of Tom Riddle regarding his dear friend, Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter wrote itself! I mentioned some violence so I must warn you again dear reader that there is some of it here.

The body on the bed looked pitiful. Uneven strands of hair clung to a pale white face. Lips that were chapped, opened to fluttering dying breaths. A boy who looked younger than him lay there, unmoving with marks of abuse on his skin.

The doctors tried their best to patch him up but he wouldn't wake.

Martha thought he would live but with one look, he knew the boy would die. Disgust marred his features when he was handed a box of medical supplies.

"This is how it's done," Martha said as she demonstrated for him what would be his duty for the next few days.

Tom Riddle already knew how to wrap bandages and how to clean up after himself but he _had_ to smile at her and politely acknowledge that she was doing him a favor. Up to that point, nothing was out of the ordinary.

Then, Tom Riddle touched him.

 _It was bliss_. He felt like he'd been reunited with a part of himself that he'd long forgotten and he wanted _more_. To run his hands across the _flimsy layer of skin that was matted with bruises, cuts and welts just to see what lays beneath–_

Tom's eyes widened. He fought hard to tear his hands away. He looked at the still body as if it was something alien. For the first time, Tom Riddle felt scared.

The task was simple enough and when cold logic replaced the fear, he was able to complete it. There was something about Henry Price that called out to him and he knew they were similar. Underneath the skin, restless and tormented was power just like his. It could be dealt with.

Tom thought that the boy should live, if only to satisfy his curiosity.

* * *

Despite his initial denial, his actions showed otherwise. He wanted Harry. He sought to keep the boy close to him. It was easy enough to conclude.

He always got what he wanted.

It was a challenge though. A part of him knew that Harry would be unwilling to trust a stranger he just met. He was also aware that the boy was traumatized from the abuse and the attempt on his life by his own father. He was almost sad that the man would be hanged in three months.

Tom could only feel greed gnaw at him at thought of having Harry. Harry was his to teach, to protect, to care for– _his_. Harry was the special friend who spoke to snakes and used _magic_ like him. Tom felt the monstrous desire to know more. He wanted to pick at the boy's head and pluck out all the secrets.

Sometimes, in the night, when Harry murmured names of strangers he didn't know, he itched to strangle the boy awake and ask him ' _Who is Ginny?'_   When the boy shook from tremors and whimpered from fear saying, " _Father… please stop… someone… help-"_   he could only press the boy closer and smother him with his gift, not knowing what else to do but it seemed to help since Harry would stop crying and relax in his hold.

Harry was like a stray cat, easy to frighten and a nervous wreck, only held together by the stubborn will to survive. He had to be gentle and non-threatening but the boy _tested_ his patience that it was almost impossible not to hurt him. It was puzzling then that Harry became friends with Dennis and Amy and none of the hostility showed when it came to them.

There must be a reason for it, he thought. It was unfair. He was used to unfair, and Harry was just like the others in that regard. The other children feared him, and knew perhaps in their hearts what he was. When Harry smiled at him though, it was sincere and he valued his honesty. Even though he wasn't completely honest all the time, he enjoyed how the other boy was terrible at hiding what he really felt.

So he let it slide, determined to make Harry see reason.

Harry's weakness was his strict adherence to his morals. If Tom's interest was not already there, he would have loved to take the boy apart just for questioning him. It was unfortunate that Tom instinctively knew that threats and punishments wouldn't work when it came to dealing with the other boy. So he used his weakness against him.

He meant what he said. He promised to take care of Harry but there was only so much he could tolerate. He could read minds after all, and he only meant to teach Harry the indirect lesson that the other children couldn't be trusted.

He certainly hadn't meant for the boy to get hurt. 'And oh they would pay.'

* * *

"Won't you tell me who did this to you?"

Harry closed his eyes at the request.

"No?"

Harry stubbornly kept his silence.

"There are other ways to find out. I will start with the girl you seem to care about."

"No." Harry's eyes were wide open now and he could almost see what they looked like in the boy's head. He had an idea of who they were. There were only a handful of children who would dare do something so stupid.

"Don't hurt them," Harry pleaded.

Tom only smiled at him as he tucked him in bed.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

Harry made a face at this. The small thing was visibly at war with his feelings. "I told you before–" Harry's voice was faltering, and it pained him to speak, his head still throbbing, "It won't help. I'm fine… I'm not that hurt… They'll get back at you if you–" "I know. I'll just have to make sure they can't. I promised I'll take care of you, Harry… so _don't_ bother stopping me."

Harry reached out for him then and it was curious at how the boy seemed to want his contact when he was so terribly shy of it before. He blamed it on the anxiety of what just happened to him. He wasn't complaining.

His hands slowly extricated itself from the protesting hold.

* * *

How does one get away with a crime?

For all the things he committed, it was quite simple because there was no logical explanation that should point out to him being the culprit. In the current circumstance, Harry would not confess to being assaulted and none of the kids would admit to it for the fear of being punished by any of the adults.

Equally, they thought they could get away with it. It was a small victory to be celebrated in their eyes. Tom who zealously guarded his newest friend was not the perfect guardian after all, or so they would be thinking. He made them think that way.

 _But_ he _knew_ that when he wasn't looking, Harry was being bullied. He let it be, content to watch and wait for a time when his friend would admit to him that _he was wrong_ and Tom was right. It was almost amusing to find Harry hiding the small bruises and cuts on his arms after being shoved here and there.

It was impossible to hide when they were changing clothes and sleeping in the same room.

They think they could hurt them? Harry was merely too kind for his own good. He knew if the boy wanted, he had the potential to fight back, but he hid behind that meek and fragile self of his who didn't want to hurt a fly.

Perhaps he had the hope that Harry was right, that they weren't so different from the others.

In his eyes they were mere insects who buzzed too much for his own liking. He was special and they were not. The hate was mutual. He never thought to consider if it was even possible to befriend them after they started calling him a _freak_.

That Harry cared for _Amy_ and thought he could _use their friendship_ as an excuse to get what he wanted was the final straw. The boy was a novice at manipulating others and he was almost pleased _–if not for the fact that it was for Amy–_ that he saw the boy was even capable of it. For that alone, he gave in for a tiny price. A favor for a favor. He would have to think of the best compensation for a later time.

True to his word, he started with the girl. She lay sprawled on her bed with three others in the room. The room was lit up by the pale moonlight and he could see them all asleep.

His footsteps were silent and with a mere thought the door closed behind him, the lock clicking into place. Now he could play.

She had the teddy wrapped around her arms, and her eyes seemed red-rimmed from crying.

His fingers began to trail across her skin, and he wondered what Harry saw in her. This ugly thing who could not stand up for herself. He could read her heart just as easily as the others. She grimaced in pain as the fingers left pink marks, burning. His power was itching to _hurt_ and cause her immense pain.

"Wake. Up."

The girl bolted open, a gasp on her lips when she saw him then she stumbled ungracefully out of bed.

"T-Tom! What are you doing here… you're not supposed to be here… I-I'll scream if you do anything." She clutched the teddy and the blanket close to her body as if it was precious to her.

"Then go ahead and scream." Tom said coldly.

Amy opened her mouth and started to scream.

Only, no sound came out. Her hands went to her throat as suffocating noises began to fill the room.

"He cared for you. I don't know why but Harry did. Won't you tell me what's so special about you?"

Tom began slow measured steps until he was crouching next to her. He watched her struggle to breathe until she collapsed on the floor. None of the other children in the room was aware of what was happening.

"Speak. I'm waiting."

The girl opened her mouth, and rasped out words. "I'm… soh-rry."

"What was that?"

He let go, and the girl began crying. She was sobbing and heaving for breath.

"Tom… Please believe me. I didn't do it… It wasn't me," she sniffed, and tried to crawl away from him. She flinched when he held her ankle. It began burning. He watched the skin turn red, and her face morph into that of pain and fear.

"I didn't… want him hurt. I promise… so please… please stop."

"You. Didn't. Answer. My question." Tom spoke and all but hissed the pointed words. "Shall I repeat it for you? I asked… what is so special about you?"

Amy struggled, and he held her down with a mere thought so the rest of her landed on a thud on the floor. She moaned in pain.

"I… I don't know."

Tom narrowed his eyes.

"You don't know?"

"I don't Tom… It hurts." The girl twisted as his power began crawling across her skin. She was biting her lip so hard it was bleeding. He let go of her ankle, content to watch her struggle getting up. He sat on her bed and filched the bear from her lax hold.

"I know what you are. You're just an ugly girl who wants attention. You're worthless. Say it. Say you're worthless."

Tom felt some twisted happiness form in him. He watched her as if she was going to perform a trick for him like an obedient dog.

The girl seemed to struggle, stubbornly keeping her mouth shut. Tom played with bear, stretching both of its arms wide. She seemed to do the same.

She whispered it at first.

"Say it louder."

"I'm worthless.."

She began saying it, almost feverishly and Tom watched her body twist with the tears running down her face. Satisfied, Tom left the toy on the bed.

"I don't want to see you near him again."

The girl nodded, since it was all she could do when her body was bent like a bow and her throat was occupied from trying to swallow lungfuls of air.

"You're not very good at following instructions, so I need to make sure you do it properly this time. I want a promise."

He called his magic back and her body sagged on the floor, chest heaving. "I won't… go near him. I won't tell on you… I promise Tom."

She was very frightened. That was good. He was after all showing her what he was capable of and confirming her worst fears.

"Do you know what Harry thinks of you? He thinks you're a filthy liar. A traitor. You certainly don't deserve it but I'm giving you another chance. Despite what happened, Harry would be sad if something bad happened to you."

He watched her on the floor as she sought to cover herself up, all her earlier flailing having brought the night dress higher than what was appropriate.

"Amy, why did you do it?" Tom asked calmly, even when the urge to suffocate her was riding beneath his fingertips.

"I just… wanted to help him… They said they'd help me convince Harry. I wanted him to get away from you." Amy confessed, voice hollow and ashamed.

Tom quickly glossed through her thoughts, disjointed as they were, it was clear.

"You wanted him away from me even when he said no." Tom felt hate then. Amy cowered from him and all she could do was cry her fat tears out. It almost clouded his better judgment but he was patient. It can wait.

"Give me their names."

* * *

The lump on the boy's head was covered perfectly by his hair. The rope burns hid underneath the long sleeve. A plain black coat, warm and thick was pulled over the boy's head. Tom held out his hand, and Harry grabbed it. Tom handed Harry gloves which he shoved into a pocket of his pants. The laces of his shoes were secured and they were off.

Soon they were lined up in neat rows in the courtyard. The roll call began and ended.

They deftly followed the adults out into the streets of London. It was different from going to school which was a mere street away. Men and women were walking about in clothing Harry had never bothered to take note of. The men wore checkered, striped, or dark colored coats that was sometimes paired with a tie. Most wore hats and there were all manners of hats, feathered, curved, round, pointed, mostly in dark color. Some wore fur. It didn't look that different from the clothing of his time, Harry noted but it gave a different _fashion_. There was a glaring lack of jeans.

Of course he knew this already, but he chose to observe the world around him in avoidance of asking the question that's been building up in his throat.

The winter air was cold and regardless of the layers of clothing, it seemed to seep through when the air blew. Harry took out the gloves in his pocket and wore it. It was supposed to be a little warmer today but Harry shivered. Tom surreptitiously threw him a glance and pulled him closer for which he was thankful for.

He breathed in the air and watched as the white puffs escaped his lips when he breathed out. The snow formed puddles of water on the ground and as they walked, Harry noted every line on the cobbled steps. The sky was clear, with blue and streaks of white.

Rows of buildings not much taller than four floors stretched on. As they went past establishments, the children shared hushed conversations and silent giggles. Reprimands of "keep quiet" were heard from time to time.

He saw the newspaper stand selling cigarettes, and noted down the date. It was the 6th of February, 1937. In his head he had a vague recollection that he wrote his birthday to be the same as his old one so it was on the 31st of July, 1927. He would turn ten, and if nothing changed from the past, Hogwarts would start on September 1st which was around a year and a half from the present.

"Why do you look as if you've never seen this all before?"

Harry turned to look at Tom and tried to wrack his brain for an explanation. "Because… I haven't. He kept me indoors… and rarely took me out."

Harry watched Tom's face darken. Harry faltered and realized how badly he must have worded it. "I- I liked staying inside the house... and it's not that I haven't seen this… it's just that I don't see it often."

"Harry, that man abused you. Stop trying to justify it. Come on, we'll be left behind."

Harry left the newsstand and hurried after Tom to continue his perusal of the outside world. They weren't allowed outside when it was snowing very hard, and Martha insisted he stayed indoors when he was just recovering so during Sundays, he was left alone in his room with the snake that Tom refused to name.

The cars reminded him of turtles. They were definitely blocky and noisy. They had large wheels and thin stirring wheels. It was unlike the modern muggle cars he was used to which were sleek, quiet and elegant. Some of them were open with no roof. He'd seen them before in pictures, and history lessons. He saw the occasional man who owned one but it was a sight to see everyone using it. The streets were free, and seemed wide open, with men and women opting to use bicycles here and there. He even spied the red double decker bus. At least some things never changed.

A few of the men and women waved and the children waved back excitedly. Harry thought that, despite what the country was going through, at least some people were still cheerful.

They came to a stop by the fountain, and there, a few children gathered to throw some coins.

Mrs. Cole looked exasperated.

She began saying, "You all know what must be done. Behave and listen to what the priest says."

They entered the brick building, and Harry sat down with Tom beside him. Some children knelt before entering the pew. It was quiet and peaceful.

Harry copied the others and knelt when told. He put his hands together in a mimic of a prayer and he and Tom shared glances.

The choir sang, and their voices carried over the chamber. Harry listened to the mass not really believing any of it for he knew that miracles performed were comparable to feats of magic had they been true but he did enjoy listening to the lessons that the priest imparted.

"Do not give dogs what is holy. Do not throw your pearls before swine. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and then turn and tear you to pieces. Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and it will be opened to you…"

* * *

On the way back, Harry was surprised when he heard muffled cries. Someone had been run over by a car.

Harry and Tom went closer and upon inspection, it was Davis, the older boy who hit Harry.

"Thank heavens he's still alive… his arm, oh dear. Mrs. Cole! We must call a doctor. Oh my… how could this happen?"

"He was sick this morning but he insisted on going. He said… he wanted to confess to the priest."

"The poor lad."

The conversation hit Harry like a ton of bricks and he ran. Tom followed him like a predator stalking prey.

Harry came to a stop when his abused legs gave up on him, and he was barely four blocks away. Tom reached out for him and Harry shivered, pushing him away.

"You did this," Harry accused.

Tom frowned and helped the boy up. "I merely gave him bad dreams."

Harry looked behind Tom and saw the commotion. "You… you didn't want this to happen? This was an accident?"

Tom pressed Harry closer, noting the boy's trembling legs. "Yes, Harry. It was an accident."

Harry shook his head. "No… no, you're lying. You're really happy right now… I can feel it."

Tom's hands dug into the boy's side, and whispered, "You can feel it?"

Harry struggled to put some distance in between them, looked so tormented when he said, "I don't like it when you do things like this, Tom. I thought he died! You could've killed mmph–"

A hand covered Harry's mouth and Tom quickly glanced left and right for anyone who might have heard.

"Harry, it's not nice when you start accusing me out in the open."

Harry brought the hand down and asked in a small voice, "so it's true then?"

Tom seemed to stare at him, and he saw what he looked like from the reflection of the boy's eyes –all pale, with dark shadows under his eyes–

"At least know that I did this for you. They will never touch you again."

Harry looked away from him, and whispered, "I don't care about that. I never asked for it Tom."

* * *

Wilson was found trapped in the very same cabinet he had hidden Harry. The boy was emaciated and looked horribly traumatized. The boy was afraid of his own shadow. His friends nervously told the adults that it was a prank gone wrong and nobody would admit to who was the culprit.

True to his word, the public example scared off anyone else who tried to hurt or approach Harry, and while he was thankful for the reprieve, the incident drove a wedge in between Tom and Him.

They slept in different beds and Tom stopped attempting to get him to speak to him.

Now he was stuck with the snake.

" _Why do you not seek out my master?_ " The snake hissed, while Harry read book on his bed.

" _He did something I didn't like._ " Harry hissed.

" _Tell me what happened, human."_

Harry pouted, 'So it's human now.'

" _Some humans hurt me. So Tom hurt them back. He almost got another one killed… but I never wanted that. I told him not to hurt them but he still did it anyway._ " Harry twisted around so he could fully face the snake.

" _I do not understand your problem. My master merely did what he thought was right."_

Harry frowned, " _You think it's okay to hurt others?_ "

" _For us… we do it to survive. My master thinks the same. Maybe._ "

Harry held out his hand and let the snake twine around his arms and soon, the snake was sitting atop his head, her scales blocking out the light. He laughed at this.

"… _Tom is so different. He doesn't understand what's right from wrong… It scares me, what he's capable of. I don't want him to be a murderer… He's just a child."_

The snake seemed to grow heavier, and its tail rested on his neck, " _You are a child also. You should talk to him… but do it later. So warm."_

Harry thought about the snake's advice and promised himself that he should give her a name. He frowned, 'A name that was definitely **not** _Nagini_.' That would be wrong.

Harry thought he was such a coward. He'd been avoiding the other boy purposely for a day.

He never thought to see it from Tom's point of view. He thought back on the words that Tom used when he was telling him about the other orphans. Tom was called a freak, and if he cared to guess, they hurt him. What else could have Tom done to make them call him a freak? Had he, by some chance, showed some of his ' _freakishness_ ' as his muggle relatives loved to call it?

Harry remembered incidents when he was young when he accidentally apparated after being so scared of Dudley and his gang when they almost managed to corner him while they were on their 'Harry Hunting' phase. He remembered how his hair grew to the same length when his Aunt tried to cut it in a horribly embarrassing length.

As for Henry, he remembered the cups shattering, one too many times and being beaten up for it.

Accidental magic is something that couldn't be controlled _hence the name_ , and the Ministry wasn't that reliable in controlling instances that weren't of consequence to them.

Perhaps the other children saw this, and Harry knew how it felt to be rejected by others for something he didn't understand or couldn't even control. The difference between them was that Tom learned how to use it and knew that he was different. Harry only thought he was _freakish_ just like his relatives told him. Tom thought he was special.

'If. If that's how they treated him. If they **hit him** and **locked him** **up** … or worse–'

Harry tried not to finish the thought but the images came unbidden. Tom, younger than him and practically defenseless with his magic as the only thing that protected him…

'Wilson also killed his snake. He called it his friend, and maybe Tom was scared the same would happen to me too.'

" _If you don't learn to protect yourself, they'll happily ruin you."_

Harry felt confused. He told himself whatever it was, what Tom did was wrong. He had to make him see it but Harry wasn't sure anymore.

* * *

He felt something move. He opened his eyes to see Tom in the late afternoon sun. He noticed the soft curl of the boy's dark brown hair and a few strands out of place. Tom's hair seemed so impeccably combed, it was nice to see it messed up. Then, Harry noticed the blanket that was now covering him.

Harry turned to look at Tom in the eye for the first time in what felt like days and noticed the boy looked hurt. _Felt hurt._ He could feel it now, a buzzing in his head, and he hated it.

Harry felt something twist badly in his chest and he spoke, "Don't go. Let's talk."

Tom just stood there.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"I want to now."

Harry twiddled with his fingers.

"You know… it's funny how this is the second time it's happening."

Harry sat up on the bed, careful not to wake the snake who slept soundly on one side of the bed.

"Tom. I'll be honest. I don't understand you. I don't know why you like me. I find you scary… the things you can do…" ' _the things you will do'_ "but since we're friends, I think, I should give you a chance to explain things to me. I have so many questions… I don't know if it's okay to ask them but I will if you let me."

Harry pulled his legs close to his chest and looked up at the taller older boy. Tom wordlessly sat next to him. Harry felt himself relax when Tom sat, their arms touching just a little.

"Ask."

Harry thought of the most pressing one.

"Why did you hurt them?"

Tom was quiet for a while and he closed his eyes.

"They hurt you."

The boy clenched his fists as he let a frustrated sigh escape his lips. Tom continued, "Harry, sometimes knowing what people think, can be a curse."

Harry tilted his head, "Why is that?"

Tom opened his eyes, and it looked unnervingly red when the sun's rays hit it. "Thoughts only become actions when they decide to act on it. I knew they wanted to hurt you but you wouldn't listen. If I didn't hurt them, being locked up in that cabinet won't be the last of it."

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it.

"So… you didn't hurt them because you liked it?"

Tom smiled, and took Harry's hand.

"I already told you, Harry. I enjoy hurting people."

Harry's brows knit together.

"Let me finish?" Harry nodded.

"I don't deliberately _hurt_ people. I do it when they annoy me, or when they hurt me. It's simpler this way. It is easier to be feared than to _pretend_ to be like them." Tom squeezed the small hand, and Harry felt warmth from it.

"They think I'm the devil, a freak _._ What else can explain the power we have? I don't know what I am, but I refuse to believe I am any of those things. How can I be kind to people who were never kind to me?"

Harry felt then, that they were stuck in a bad system. The magical world had no idea of how those children who were stuck in the muggle world felt like, growing up without anyone to tell them about their powers entirely unaware that there was a whole society for people who were like them.

It was flawed.

The flawed system was one of the reasons why Tom Riddle turned into Voldemort.

"They hurt you?"

"Many times."

Harry paused at the knowledge. "What did you do to them… to the children who hurt me?"

Tom's gaze turned heavy, and Harry felt the magic, caress him, "Do you want to know?"

Harry nodded. It was his fault for not being able to protect himself just like Tom said he should. He vowed never to let it happen in his head.

"To Davis, I made him dream of his worst fears and coaxed him to confess his crimes to the priest. This was all to make him a bit distracted. Then it was a matter of waiting for something to happen. He would never be able to use his arm again… the one that hit you."

Tom reached out for his hair, and Harry relaxed at the touch, expelling the breath he didn't know he held in.

"Wilson, was easy. He's terribly afraid of small dark spaces. I hurt him a little. It was disgusting watching him soil his pants in fear. He begged me not to put him inside the cabinet when it was his idea to put you in there. I thought it was a fitting punishment."

"Ok, ok. Enough."

Harry felt his heartbeat thudding in his chest and Tom tilted Harry's chin, studying him.

Tom stared into his eyes and smirked.

"What else do you want to know?" the boy let go of his chin.

"Why… this? Why do you keep on touching me?" Harry blurted.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

"N-no."

"But we're… n-nevermind…"

"Now you have me curious. Since I have answered all of your questions by far, let me ask this time. Do you feel anything when I touch you?"

Harry swallowed. "It's…nothing… it's just incredibly comforting." Harry looked away, far away and thought that the snake's scales were pretty interesting.

"I see."

To this, Tom pulled the boy onto his lap. "W… wait… Wait Tom what are you doing?"

"An experiment."

Tom maneuvered the boy so Harry was sitting on his lap, straddling him and he could look at the exquisite eyes as they began to widen.

He heard the thoughts then.

' _Too close too close too close...'_

He patted the boys head and he felt and heard the voice stop as Harry melted against him. It was curious.

"Stop it," Harry murmured.

Tom laughed.

The sound of it seemed to startle Harry. "What's so funny?"

"You… you're like a cat."

Harry pushed himself away, cheeks burning.

"I will have you know, I'm not."

Harry took the pillow and smacked the boy with it. Tom grinned, having stopped the pillow in midair with his hand.

"That's cheating!"

"I don't play fair," Tom was pleased to say. Harry laughed at this.

They sat together once more, just a little closer, with Harry looking less haunted and Tom looking less hurt.

Tom said, "I'll answer all your questions, if you answer some of mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yey. It's an early update. I usually wait for a day after I've posted it on ffnet before I put it up here so I can reread the entire chapter again and catch the typos/mistakes. If you spot any, you can let me know.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments. Let me know if there's anything you think I should improve, or things that you like, etc. I love to read what you guys and girls have to say and I'm quite happy reply to them when I have free time <3.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry attemps to understand Tom Riddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was up all night trying to finish this and I was just too exhausted to post it this morning. A comment from the last chapter asked where this story was heading so if you would like to know, there's more notes at the bottom of the chapter. Again, thank you to all who left kudos and comments.

They were sitting next to each other, thighs touching and the pillow lay on both of their laps. The snake was still asleep. Harry thought that she would have been grumbling by now with all the noise they made.

"Alright. It's a deal."

Harry stretched out his toes and began, "Why do you enjoy hurting people?"

Tom blinked innocently. "Haven't you asked that question already?"

Harry turned to look at the other boy, observing the boy's facial features. Tom looked perplexed.

"There's a difference you see. I asked you why you liked it and you told me you enjoy it. So why… why do you enjoy it?"

The hand tightened and with it the magic moved. It was agitated.

"You ask difficult questions."

Harry just squeezed the hand back.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," Harry murmured.

"To answer your question… I will need to ask you something."

Harry nodded his consent.

"Have you ever killed a fly?"

Harry scrunched his brow. "A fly? What has that got to do with this?"

"Just answer me," Tom said softly.

"Of course. I mean... I think it's normal."

"That's surprising."

"Why?"

"That you find it normal. I was beginning to think you were incapable of it."

Tom seemed to smile at this. The older boy considered him for a moment. Harry thought Tom liked to stare at him way too much. He was getting used to it by now but it still felt unnerving to have the other boy's complete attention.

His thoughts about Tom halted when he heard the next question.

 

"So tell me, Harry, why did you kill them?" Tom tilted his head downwards and was looking at him from beneath his lashes.

Harry was still confused but decided to say, "Because they're pests?"

Tom seemed pleased at his answer and the thumb on his wrist began drawing patterns.

"Have you ever felt guilty about killing it? Or… were you relieved it was dead and it was never going to cause trouble again?"

"Oh." Harry's eyes widened and then he was frowning. "You can't compare hurting people to killing a fly Tom. Those are two very different things!"

The snake stirred a little and Harry hissed, " _sorry._ "

Then he turned to look at the boy who was borderline happy. Harry could feel it, the pleasant hum in the air.

"You are so quick to judge. I just wanted you to understand that sometimes… sometimes you do things which come naturally. You do things without thinking about why you do it."

Harry felt a headache building up, "You hurt them because it feels natural?"

Tom's magic was moving about the room and the thumb on his wrist felt distracting. Harry tugged at his hand feeling uncomfortable, but Tom held on.

"You already know that they've provoked me to do this. I loathe them. Like I said, why should I care about people who never cared about me? Surely, you would want those who torment you to be tormented as well. You feel the same for your father."

Harry flinched at the mention of the man.

"Don't deny it."

Harry felt a part of himself close off.

"Harry?"

Tom's face morphed into a concerned one and Harry puffed up his cheeks.

"I think you're wrong."

"Oh?"

"I wouldn't want him hurt the same way. I wouldn't want him to be tortured even for what he did to me."

Before Tom could say anything and he was going to say something given the scowl on his face, Harry said, "You still haven't told me why you enjoy it."

Tom looked frustrated at this, "It's because I do. I know it's justified. I told you the reason for it. I feel happy when I see them in pain."

Harry caught onto the word _happy_ and something sunk in his chest. The word was the trigger for memories of Voldemort.

He almost wanted to pull away but tried to remind himself that Tom cared for him. Tom was different. They were friends.

"I knew their thoughts before I began to understand what they were. I could hear it in my head. At first I thought they were speaking but I soon learned it was their inner most thoughts. The adults and the children are all the same. They say one thing but they think differently. What's worse is they say things behind your back."

Harry pondered on this. He wasn't sure what it would feel like if he was able to hear real thoughts around him all the time. People often held back from saying what they really wanted especially if it was something bad. It's how society functions. If they didn't, people would get hurt unnecessarily. That's why everyone has to consciously filter what they say. It was a _human_ thing to do and he knew he was not exempt from it. Even now, he thought darkly.

Tom was innocent for all Voldemort's crimes but often times, he would see the two blend together.

"Can you hear what I'm thinking too? I know you can. You've done it before."

Tom frowned and shook his head slowly, "I find it strange since most of the time, I don't. You are unreadable which makes me incredibly curious. What I do know is that, despite being afraid of me, you agreed to be my friend. You also agreed to stay with me in this room. Would you care to tell me why?"

Harry really wanted to know the extent of Tom's skills in Legilimency, but he didn't want to come off as too eager or fixated on it so he let the matter drop.

"I just wanted to give you a chance." That much was the complete truth. "You were kind to me and I owe you my life. They might say that you're nasty and that I should stay away from you, but you care for me…"

' _And I don't want you to follow the same path as Voldemort. If you're capable of caring for someone like this, then there's still hope._ '

The small part of him just wanted to stop himself from asking, "What do you feel for me?"

"I like you enough to want you around."

Harry swallowed at the answer.

He nervously continued asking, "What part of me do you like?"

Tom's eyes lit up, and he could feel the boy vibrate with excited energy even though he remained calm and collected on the outside.

"A lot of things, Harry. You and I have… a connection. You know this."

As if to demonstrate, the boy dragged a finger from the boy's wrist to his arm. Harry shuddered and pulled away _completely_ , crossing his arms on his chest.

Tom was amused. "You're also my first human friend. You and I share the same gifts. We speak to snakes. We can do things that normal people can't do. I do not believe in fate but sometimes, I feel like you were made for me."

Harry recoiled at this, finding the words too close to home, and the excitement fizzled out.

"…but I know now that we are completely different. We are the opposites of each other. You even have this _ridiculous_ notion that everyone should be _good_ and you hate it when people don't agree with you." Tom sighed.

"Sometimes I think that you're too _naïve_ for your own good," Tom continued.

Harry twitched at the word naïve.

Tom smirked at him, "But it is what makes you unique."

"So you like me as a friend?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Tom's eyes were dancing with mirth as he said it.

Harry looked away hastily and said, "Thanks Tom… I'm glad you do. To be honest, I just find it difficult to believe that you'd genuinely like me."

"Why?"

He put his hands on his lap once more. Harry let out a breath he was holding and asked, "Because you like hurting others and you don't… seem to care for them. Would you enjoy hurting me too?"

Tom scowled, "Why do you keep asking the same questions Harry?"

Harry felt like he was slapped in the face but said, "You said you'd answer all of it."

"Fine… then if you must know. Yes. I would probably enjoy hurting you to a certain extent..."

"Why?"

"It depends. You were the one who told me that friends hurt each other often. While you are my friend, if you do something I don't really like, hurting you becomes a very appealing thought."

Harry knew that much at least. It made sense.

"-but I don't want you in pain, Harry. I want you… happy. Have I not promised to take care of you?"

"Yes?"

"Then it wouldn't make sense to hurt you if I wanted to take care of you, right?"

Harry nodded, but still didn't feel convinced. Harry let the silence grow as he played around with Tom's reasoning. He liked to hold grudges and get even. Tom's idea that it was justified stemmed in the belief that it was ok because he was once a victim too and he was just fighting back. It felt very confusing and Tom even used his own words against him. If he rearranged it in a manner that he would understand, it would just point out that Tom was a sadist, who enjoyed seeing others in pain.

He claimed that it wasn't a habit and he didn't do it for no reason. How annoyed would Tom have to be before he decided to act on this  _desire_? Harry pondered about instances that didn't warrant outright cruelty. Harry frowned, worrying his lower lip.

There was also the twisted analogy of killing a fly. Did Tom think the other children were insects or was it just a random example to prove his point? Did he really think so little of them that he didn't feel guilty of what he did to them?

'and I'm the only exception.'

"How is it that you feel what I feel, Harry?"

The question caught him off guard and he could feel his heart at his throat. ' _I'm such an idiot.'_

How should he answer it without digging himself into a deeper hole? After a quick deliberation, he decided honesty it is.

"I don't know… I just do. Sometimes I can tell, like just a while ago, you were excited and happy but… it doesn't happen all the time. Right now, I don't know what you feel."

"Interesting."

Tom stretched his neck a little and let himself fall onto the boy's lap. Harry let out a small squeak of surprise though he would later deny that.

Tom looked so comfortable and Harry didn't know what else to do so he kept both of his hands away, choosing to hold them both to his chest.

"Tom what will happen if you don't like me anymore?"

Tom considered the question. "Harry," Tom said his name in a warning. "Do you want me to say something like, don't worry, that won't ever happen?"

"No… no, not at all. I just wondered if this is temporary?... I–"

"Nothing about my friendship with you is temporary. You don't trust me?"

"I do."

"Then stop thinking about silly things."

Harry felt ashamed. Perhaps Tom was right. As much as he didn't want to admit it himself, it wasn't just Tom who benefited in this friendship. Harry had no idea how he would stay put in the past with no one familiar enough to be around with. Nobody knew him, and while he could start anew, he longed for his other life more than anything.

He was left clinging to the other boy because he felt _familiar._ The past few weeks, he grew dependent on the older boy. It was pathetic that he sought reassurance. He wanted Tom to say it. Over and over.

Harry liked the fact that Tom cared for him.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Harry? Are you afraid that I'll abandon you?"

Harry felt himself flinch and he felt the magic wrap around him, comfortingly.

"You promised never to leave me, right?"

"Yes." Harry recalled the memory where words flew out of his mouth so confidently back when he was arguing with Tom about Amy.

"Then you don't have to worry about me doing the same."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. "I can't help it."

"I know."

"And I'm not a pillow," Harry muttered.

"You are now."

Harry huffed and just gave up. In his head, Tom could be the brother he never had. He was certainly very protective... like an older brother could be. He tried to compare it with his own sons – it now felt weird to think of them like that. They certainly didn't exhibit the same behavior since James was insuferrable and Albus would always complain about being bullied. They used to sleep in the same room at times but that was when they were little. If they were ever together in the same room at about the current age he was in, he feared the house might get demolished.

"Do you ever think about your family… your parents I mean?"

Tom looked up at Harry from his lap. "Sometimes. I do."

"Do you want to see them?"

Harry slowly let his hands fall unconsciously.

"My mother died giving birth to me, and from what I know, I've been named after my father. I will find him someday. It should be easy."

"What will you do when you find him?"

"I will find out why I've been left here." Tom said it with no emotion, as if he was just stating a fact. Harry knew that Tom would grow up to kill his own father. His hands reached out for the boy's hair. It was surprisingly very soft. "What about you, Harry?"

Harry thought back at the woman, "I think I lived with my mother before she left me. I don't remember seeing my real father."

"Do you want to meet her too?"

"Not really. I don't think I can stand to see her..."

"Why is that?"

Harry felt a little vulnerable as he told the story. "I was so young… about three? I don't remember what she looks like but she had long wavy black hair. She often told me how much she loved me but she just abandoned me in the marketplace. I tried searching for her but I couldn't find her."

"Then she didn't love you."

Harry froze at the callous words.

"There might have been another reason. Maybe she got taken away? Maybe she died? Maybe…? I don't know."

Tom was silent.

"Do you like it here?" Harry gestured to the room.

Tom pondered for a moment and said, "Not really, but I have you now so that makes it better. You?"

"It's okay. It's better than what I've had before."

Harry thought back to the past two lives and wholeheartedly agreed that it was a big improvement.

He was sharing a tiny room with Tom Riddle, but it wasn't as small as the cupboard under the stairs or as dangerous as his previous home.

"When you were with him, have you ever thought of running away, Harry?" Tom asked.

Harry thought back in the instances where he was left with the abusive man. "No. I thought it was normal. I didn't have anything to compare it with. He wasn't always bad. Before he lost his job, he was pretty… decent."

Harry felt so lost then. In both lives he never considered telling anyone, or running away. At a later point, perhaps he did try but he was never taken seriously. He thought there was something wrong with him but as he grew older, he understood that he was just a victim. Despite being a _freak_ or having _magic_ , it was not enough to warrant such a treatment. Both of his families abused him. That was the truth.

"What did he do to you?"

Harry felt compelled to answer and choked out the words, "besides trying to kill me, you mean? He would punish me if I broke the dishes or when he was drunk. I had to watch the house, cook, clean, and do the laundry. Sometimes, if I was good, he'd let me listen to the radio or play with my toys."

"How would he punish you?"

"He'd lock me up and forget to feed me. Stick pins on me, punch me, hit me... He'd gag me… so I wouldn't scream. He told me I was very bad…"

Harry choked and felt like it was happening all over again.

"I don't really want to talk about what happened, Tom. I just want to forget it."

"Okay."

Harry tried to calm down but Tom was looking at him very intently. Harry tried not to look into his eyes.

"Harry, you sometimes murmur names in your sleep. Sometimes you would call out for your father in your nightmares. Sometimes, you would say other names like Ginny. Who is she?"

Harry answered robotically, "No one."

"Don't lie to me."

Harry bit his lip and avoided looking at Tom's eyes, "I told you about the friends of mine that I would never see again. I'll never see her again."

"I see."

Harry was panicking. He said her name in his sleep. He must have missed her more than he cared to admit. He was wondering if he ever said Albus in his sleep. He wasn't sure if he could play it off as a coincidence that he knew someone whose name was Albus –

"Harry…"

There was a hand on his cheek. "You look like you're about to cry."

Harry blinked and smiled, forcing it a little, "I'm ok but let's not talk about… my past. Please."

Tom let go of his face. "Alright."

Harry's hand fell from Tom's hair to the bed and the snake began uncoiling herself before moving a little closer to Harry's thigh.

They continued conversing and Harry got to know a bit more about Tom. The boy's current passion was reading and he was willing to bet Tom would devour the Hogwarts library once he got his hands on it. Tom went through hundreds of books and absorbed them like a sponge. He was friends with the librarian from the school who allowed him unlimited access which explained how he always seemed to have a never ending supply of stuff to read.

They talked about the mundane things too, like the subjects they enjoyed. For Harry, he found that he liked History since there was much in the time period that he didn't know and it was an eye opener to see things in a different point of view. For Tom, he liked literature. The boy confessed he also liked to write his thoughts down as well. He had a small journal for his thoughts that he warned Harry not to look at. It was a given since Tom Riddle's first horcrux was his diary.

Harry mentioned he felt anxious about how they needed to take his measurements for the school record because it meant he would have to take off his clothes. Exposing the scars and the lingering bruises only brought pitying looks. Tom was quick to assure him that, "You look fine the way you are."

This brought on the topic of beauty and Harry saw it as a chance to tell Tom that he was very attractive. Tom of course knew this already. Then he teased the other boy about the numerous girls in class wearing frilly dresses and bows who would always look at Tom dreamily.

Tom didn't deny any of this but chose to ignore Harry's childish behavior. They talked about colors that they loved, and Harry said he loved "red" while Tom preferred "green and black".

They talked of the seasons, their beds, the leaves, the flowers and food. They talked about animals, music, places, and objects. Tom stuck to his word, never mentioning the past.

When Harry asked when Tom began to consciously control his magic, it was at the early age of five but even before that, Harry surmised, Tom was a natural Legilimens. He was not an accomplished one because hearing thoughts was quite elementary from actually being able to navigate the inner workings of the mind.

He did know that Tom was already capable of making others _dream_ or have visions at such an early age. He did this to a muggle whose mind had far less protection than a wizard. It was very alarming that he was capable of doing it in the first place. Harry thought that if he wanted to keep his secrets, then he had to keep practicing occlumency. All the time.

Magic loved him. Harry felt insignificant in comparison. It was true that in his other life, he became the master of death, a glorified war hero, the chosen one, and the ace in the auror division. He saved the lives of thousands, and perhaps if he started to consider the potential ramifications of saving the muggles from Voldemort, then he probably saved millions too.

At their age though, Harry felt weak and helpless while Tom was already so brilliant and showing how much of a genius he really was. Harry wondered if he was jealous. He had memories of using his magic and he could hardly use a drop of that power.

The only thing Harry was happy about was that, Tom admitted to feeling tired if he used his gifts in excess. It would be entirely too unfair if he didn't feel exhaustion.

"Sashah si hashish la hiyeth?"

Tom reached out for the snake that Harry was handing out to him.

" _When are you going to name her?"_ Harry asked as he stroked the sleepy snake's head that now lay on Tom's chest. It woke up briefly and gravitated towards them after the afternoon sun left.

" _You do realize that if we name her, we will be attached to her._ "

Harry watched the pretty reddish brown snake. There was a dark zigzag pattern that started close to the top of her head and ending on her tail. He didn't know what breed it was and he hoped it wasn't venomous.

" _I don't really mind… she's already around us most of the time. I just don't want to keep on calling her the snake… or little one. She's not going to stay little."_

Tom scoffed at this, " _She's small._ "

'Yeah, small compared to Nagini and the Basilisk.'

Harry didn't know enough about snakes but he was sure the snake grew in size and length after just a few weeks. It wasn't a very noticeable difference but Harry thought she was half an inch longer. He wondered where she shed her skin. 

" _Do you have one in mind already?"_

"Sif." Harry said, in English and he was quite excited about this because he was looking forward to calling her something.

" _Why that name?_ "

" _It sounds like a snake's name._ "

Tom sighed exasperatedly, " _Ask her when she's fully awake and if she likes it, then we will call her that._ "

Harry yawned a bit and stared out the darkening horizon. Tom willed the lights to open and Harry had to blink a little, his eyesight adjusting to the sudden brightness.

"I can't believe we've been talking for hours. I'm hungry," Harry said.

He turned to the boy on his lap, and smiled, big and bright. "Thank you Tom. I think I'm done for now."

"Good. I was beginning to think this would never end." Tom levitated the snake to his bed with a lazy wave of a finger and sat up, stretching.

Harry took this as a cue to start stretching himself, wincing at the pain on his legs and hips. He lay on his tummy and hugged the pillow to himself. He absently noticed it smelled like Tom.

"Harry, the next time it happens. The next time somebody dares to hurt you, will you tell me?"

Harry turned sideways so he could look at the boy who was now standing and leaning over him.

"Yes."

"That's good. We should have dinner. Come."

* * *

The Mirror of Erised

**_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ **

**__ **

_I show not your face but your heart's desire_

It was placed in an abandoned room. The dust stirred in the air as half-forgotten memories began to resurface. It was from a time when he was a young boy, and he was lost, searching for something he could not find but wanted desperately.

A ghost of the past. His family. His parents… that sense of belonging.

It was somewhat dark, but torch lights which hung from the ceiling cast a dark green light and the shadows danced to its flickering fire.

It beckoned to him. It was just a mirror.

He knew how the piece of magic worked. He knew he should resist its call but he put one foot forward and the next. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of it, with his hand flat against its surface while waiting for them to appear.

Slowly, as if made of wisps of smoke, their faces began to emerge.

He could see them quite clearly, Ginny in her youth as she lovingly held Harry Potter and beside them, their three children, James, Lily and Albus. They were smiling, and together.

Harry thought he looked older, with stubble growing out of his chin. Aging. _Different_.

He longed to feel their warmth. His small hands traced their forms, committing it to memory.

It was never enough. He had to see them. He had to make it right. He wanted to go back.

"You miss them."

His voice cut like daggers through the silence.

Arms wrapped around him and Harry struggled to get free. When he did, Harry found himself with his back against the mirror only to see Tom with his eerily red eyes.

"Y-you're not supposed to be here." Harry said, his voice trembling as he struggled to stop the tears from falling down. Harry turned around, searching for the faces of his family but a cruel hand tugged at his hair and forced him to look away.

" _But you let me in. You came back for me. I believe I have every right to be here."_ Tom cooed, but it went unheard. "Let go of me. I don't want you. I want to see them… Let me see my family…" Tom snaked his hands around the small form and Harry struggled weakly, sobbing.

" _Never."_

The world around them was splintering at the seams.

* * *

Harry woke up with tears still falling from his eyes. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about. It was all hazy. He felt incredibly sad and afraid. His heart beat so fast that he could hardly catch his breath, and it felt like it was fighting to get out of his chest. It felt painful. Harry looked to his only source of comfort and found himself pressing closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned, here's where **(tiny bit of a spoiler)** this story is heading.
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
>  
> 
> _The story is meant to cover Harry and Tom's childhood and I plan to enter part of their Hogwarts years. After Hogwarts is still a question. During the time period (as some people mentioned in the comments), Harry and Tom would be caught in between 2 wars, the war with Grindelwald and the World War II. There will definitely be mentions of this and it might even be integral to the plot._
> 
>  
> 
> _The theme of the story is innocence but after putting enough thought in it, I decided this is going to be a dark story. There will be lots of fluff (or as much as I can realistically squeeze in). Also, don't expect Tom to be entirely too loving with Harry. At the moment, he is only capable of caring because as the facts state, he is incapable of love. This is all in hopes that I can keep him in character._
> 
>  
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> I'm currently trying to edit this chapter T_T. Work is tiring, and I'm really hoping I'll get the chance to update this coming weekend. I'm beginning to think that the weekly updates might not be possible anymore but I will do my best. Let me know your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom go to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I would be putting out weekly updates but my writing time is now severely limited so I have a question for anyone who cares to answer. I have a few trivias too at the bottom of the page. Now... I normally don't post this right away because it takes awhile before I spot the next set of errors but I just wanted it out of my hair.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy it.

_The nightmares continued to occur. Each time, Harry would wake up, sweat clinging to his brow and his heart beating all too fast as if he'd run a marathon._

_Yesterday's dream was quite different._

* * *

It was at the start of summer that it was decided they should visit the beach. It was a small field trip of sorts. The prospect of swimming brought joy to the otherwise drab state of life they found themselves in. Not to mention it was hot.

Life was certainly interesting with Tom since they've gotten closer during the past few months. He learned to read his moods easier and they spent a great deal trying to get familiar, bonding over simple things and more importantly, things that were unique to them like their gift.

Magic, Harry thought excitedly, was beginning to respond to him in ways he never thought was possible before. It was all thanks to Tom and his extraordinary patience. It just took a bit of imagination, emotion and intent. He wasn't particularly the imaginative sort so this was entirely new for him.

As the days passed by, he was getting wary at the increasing degree of separation between his older self's memories, Henry Price, and the present him. As he practiced his magic, he practiced his occlumency and began to theorize that in a sense, maybe he _was_ separate from Harry Potter.

He had the memories of _Harry_ _Potter_ but try as he might, he couldn't begin to emulate his older self. It was as if, he was in the simplest terms, _just a child_. Maybe he was a bit more mature, maybe he was more intelligent but he wasn't as wise. He didn't have Harry Potter's wisdom. If he had to say so himself, he was more of Henry Price and yet he carried both of the traumas, thoughts, and feelings.

If he was the fifty-six-year-old war veteran, Harry thought, he would be breezing through his current predicament. He'd have more courage to deal with the current situation. He wouldn't feel afraid of Tom Riddle and think of the boy as a baby in comparison. The age difference was very apparent, but in his head, he'd taken to thinking of Tom as his _protector,_ _ **older**_ _brother, best-friend, teacher_ and someone very _dear_ to him.

If he was Henry Price, he'd be a traumatized wreck which he still was in the sense. He settled for being that awkward blend between the two people, Harry Selwyn.

Accepting that he was reduced to a child in a child's body with a child's thoughts and actions was a blow that he sulked about for quite some time. It was pathetic and he'd rather try not to remember the incident that followed.

_Not wanting to leave the bed and forcing Tom to threaten to bodily throw him out of the window just so he could go back to being normal again_ –

–and he was normal now. He felt better.

They practiced, and Harry was happy to say he had a bit of control over his magic. He was able to move objects if he concentrated enough. It was certainly helpful when the sun was being particularly vengeful and he'd forgotten to close the blinds.

Small mercies, really.

Magic aside, there was only so much they could do in the company of each other. Harry found that there was never a time where Tom completely left him alone, always ever watchful and almost like a "mother" asking him where he went, what he did, and all that. This meant he couldn't sneak out to places he thought he wanted to go to. He couldn't visit Diagon Alley on his own and even if he did, he had trouble lying to Tom despite Tom not being able to read his mind completely.

He knew how to go there and Martha loved him. It was easy enough to put together a plan but he couldn't find a good excuse to do so. He was also hesitant to admit that he was scared. A kid out in the streets of London was one, but entering the magical world without a guardian when he should have no knowledge of it was a big problem. Besides that, he didn't want Tom to find out about the wizarding world through his careless actions.

This invisible leash was what made the prospect of something _different_ become terribly exciting. Things like playing outside the courtyard, visiting the market place for an errand, chatting with potential adoptive parents (although that never ended well), and finally doing his own chores. Harry found himself looking forward to all of them.

He looked forward to having more friends too, but for some reason, some reason he was sure had to do with _Tom_ , they never lasted. Tom was amiable with students in the school they were attending but they were curt with him. He knew they liked him enough but they generally tended to avoid him. He told Tom that he knew it was Tom's fault but with no proof and not wanting to start another messy fight, he chose to make the best of what he had.

_But of course he had to find out why_ , and uncovered that there was a rumor going around that he had a contagious disease, and his vocal cords were damaged, such a traumatized kid who was almost murdered by his own father was too frail and afraid to converse with others, and the list went on. The rumors began to take a life of its own and it's been spread well enough that nobody bothered being friends with him.

It was like the Dursleys spreading lies that he was attending St. Brutus Centre for incurably criminal boys, only this time, people around him began to think he was made of glass and were always shooting him concerned, pitying, and sad looks. At least there was a semblance of truth in it.

If Harry had to say anything, it was simply that… he was _bored_ and he couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts. When they were told that during the coming weekend they could visit the beach, Harry was happy.

That was an understatement though. He was _very_ happy.

Harry who had warmed up to Sif cautiously told her to "behave yourself," and in under no circumstance was she to "come out and scare any of the adults" despite the lack of people around. Sif told them she would never, and would rather go about the day hunting.

Then, it was off to the sea.

* * *

They took the bus and it was certainly refreshing, sitting there and excitedly hugging his bag that held a pair of his extra clothes and a towel. The bus windows were open, and to feel the cool air against his skin was a relief. These days, he was severely missing the use of the cooling charm since the muggles have not made air conditioners common, and their room didn't come equipped with an electric fan. "Are you listening, Harry?"

"Yes… yes, something about… a gift?"

Tom hummed at this, choosing to stare out of the window. "I do hope you like it."

There was a hump and the bus flew off a little, gasps of surprise and screams in the air. Harry was almost jilted out of his seat. Tom steadied him and looked annoyed, going so far as to brush the hair off his forehead, ruining the impeccably combed hair. Harry wanted to say something like 'you don't look so perfect now,' but chose to keep his mouth shut for the very obvious reason that Tom just might kill him when he was already in such a bad mood.

"You would think they would hire better drivers. It's a bus full of children."

Harry tuned out Tom, and tried to listen to Martha who chose to stay in their bus. She was telling the children stories of her childhood. She grew up in the place, and lived through the first war. It was tough times but she said it was looking much better now. She mentioned something about blackouts, fires, accidents, the British navy, and Harry was lost in it.

Someone complained that her childhood was too depressing and that was it.

She listed some ground rules they had to follow. "You don't go anywhere alone. You can tell me or any of the adults if you plan to go somewhere. If I see you, or for that matter, if Mrs. Cole sees you breaking this rule, you will wash all the dishes for a week. We only have half the day, and she will have my hide if any one of you gets into trouble. To those who cannot swim but still plan on it, don't go too far. Food will be served at the usual time and we will ring a bell to call you. We've had our breakfast so after lunch, we only have a few hours before going home."

"But Martha! Martha… I have to go to the loo!" Came the voice of child.

"Oh for the love of– hold it in. We're almost there."

At this, the bus turned into excited murmurs and questions were raised here in there, to which Martha answered as calmly as possible.

"Tom, is it true that we do this every year?"

They were seated at the back with hardly anyone daring to sit next to them. Harry looked up at Tom who looked quite irritable but nevertheless answered his question. "It's not often. From what I can recall, we've only visited once every two or three years. They simply cannot afford it."

"I see. Do you think we can swim?"

"Of course. You heard her."

"Martha said we can go anywhere we want as long as we don't go very far."

Tom nodded, still looking out of the window.

"Tom, what are you thinking of?"

Tom turned away from the window and took Harry's hand from underneath his bag. Harry felt the sudden rush of calm that he still couldn't understand.

"You."

Harry made a face at this and said, "I'm serious. You look so bored but you have this look… like you're up to something."

Tom merely played with his fingers, and said, "you'll find out soon."

They got off, and it was a short trek through the grassy sand and into the sandy beach where there was already a small gathering of people who came in early.

The white crashed against the creamy shores, and the blue green of the sea stretched on for miles and miles. Harry couldn't help the stupid grin on his face as he spread out his hands. "It's the beach!"

Harry ran down, his bag bouncing with him.

Tom trailed after him.

They met up with the rest of the others who proceeded to listen to the droll instructions of Mrs. Cole before being shooed off to do whatever they wanted. Umbrellas were set up and the older children helped carry stuff. Mrs. Cole looked a bit tired and took to sitting down on the chair while fanning herself.

There were quite a few who dared to go into the water. Harry noticed that most of them chose to keep their clothes on and wondered if it was common to be so covered. Some boys completely took off their tops. The women who wore bathing suits mostly had their navels covered. Older men took to wearing shorts then shirts or sandos on top.

He found it quite weird. Maybe they didn't want to be sunburnt.

Harry took off his shoes and placed them on the neat pile next to Tom's and then, paused to consider if he should take off his long sleeves. He didn't have anything underneath. He was playing with the hem as he stood there pensive and trying to decide on what to do when Tom began unbuttoning it for him.

Harry took a couple of steps back.

"Take it off. You'll get it wet."

Harry shook his head adamantly. "No."

"You were so excited to swim, Harry. Come on."

"Not really–"

"Liar."

Harry hurriedly buttoned up, not wanting anyone else to see his scars. He almost forgot to think about how his fear of showing his skin was going to affect his desire to swim.

It was at that moment that Martha appeared, looking particularly cheerful and wearing a rather colorful dress. She had a smile on her face and was enjoying the rather scenic view.

"Is he alright?" She asked. Harry took in the sight of her, and remarked stupidly in his head that Martha was actually a woman. She hardly ever tried to pretty up and he guessed it was one of these days. She had forgone the usual bun and let her hair down, even wearing a pretty bow to compliment her dotted dress.

Tom did a complete 180 and projected a picture of innocence, "We're alright Martha. Shouldn't you be doing something else?"

The older woman nodded off, "You're quite right Tom. Do watch out for Harry. Let me know when you need something."

She started walking towards the opposite direction. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to squash the feeling of wanting to go after her, and tell her that Tom was trying to undress him.

Tom had the audacity to smirk and said in a patronizing tone, "I simply don't understand why you care so much about what other people think of you. What is showing a little skin? I've seen it all before... but fine, keep it. You can take it off later."

Tom offered his hand.

"I'm going to show you a very special spot. You'll be able to swim there without anyone bothering us."

"Really?"

"Yes, so shall we?"

Harry was sure that in some part of his distant memory, he should know what it was, where this was. He grabbed the offered hand.

"Okay."

The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was pleasant to Harry. He always loved nature. He liked how it made him relax. He drank it up, the cotton in the sky, the birds that flew here and there. He relished the feel of the sand on his bare feet as they walked hand in hand.

"Sometimes, I want to leave this city," Tom began.

Harry knew the sentiment and stared up ahead. "What would you do? Where would you go?"

"Somewhere far. You will come with me." Tom said as if lost in thought.

Harry laughed, "You can't decide for me you know."

Tom squeezed his hand and tugged, walking just a bit faster.

"Hey Tom, is there anything you like doing more than anything else in the world?"

Tom tilted his head a little, looking at him, "it's not something I've thought of, but perhaps it's doing magic."

Harry nodded at this, and kicked the water off his feet. The waves crashed on it again, bubbly water covering his toes. They've gone quite far now, and they were still walking.

"What about you, Harry?"

"I think, it's flying."

"How can you like something that you've never done before?"

Harry flashed Tom a grin. "I thought of it in my head. I dream of it sometimes. We can make things move without touching them so maybe we can do it on ourselves. I rather like the thought of flying. Just imagine, looking down from the sky and how little everything else would seem." Harry made a motion with his hands, swooping across the air.

"You think flying is possible with our gift?"

Harry nodded, grinning at the memories flashing in his head. "We don't know the limits of what we can do… but you're able to do all sorts of things." Harry couldn't help the tone of admiration in his voice. Tom always looked pleased whenever he praised him.

The boy began to smile. "I'm sure you're capable of it too. You're just not _patient_ enough."

"Right."

Then Harry paused, to admire the shells and stones, a particular red hue caught his eye, and he ran towards it and grabbed it, showing it to Tom. "It's pretty isn't it?"

Tom blinked as Harry dropped it on his hand. "Why are you giving it to me?"

"I just felt like it. It suits you. Later, can we go pick up more of them?"

Tom seemed impatient and said, "Yes, Harry."

The boy began moving again, and Harry caught up to him. Harry, while used to the boy's rather dismissive tone, was getting rather irked, "We've been walking for a long time. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private. It's a pretty place… just like your eyes."

"-but… Martha said we shouldn't go too far and from here I can't even see her."

"She won't find out."

"Tom!"

"We're almost there."

They walked for a couple more minutes and reached a bend. As they walked, there were less and less people. Harry was starting to feel tired by the time they stopped. What faced them was a jagged rocky outcrop of darkness that stared out into the horizon. It was a sharp a contrast against the white beach.

It was tall, even from the distance.

It was very familiar, this place.

The tide wasn't as high, and the waves weren't as angry so it looked slightly different, more serene than anything.

But it was where he fed the most horrifying concoction to Professor Dumbledore and where thousands of dead bodies attempted to drown him to death.

"Harry?"

There was a hand on his forehead.

"You've gone pale. Do you want to rest?"

Harry took in the rocky cliffs. What in the name of Merlin was Tom thinking? Why didn't he remember it soon enough? Of course this was Tom's special spot.

Harry steeled himself and said, "I'm fine," but as he said that, Harry pulled his hand away, feeling very frightened.

The boy looked at him very carefully. Harry looked away, but a hand tilted his chin. Harry kept his eyes shut.

" _Are you sure?"_

The hand weaved itself through his hair, and Harry felt his legs weaken. The earlier fear was being replaced with comfort as his thoughts turned to mush. His eyes opened and Tom looked very pleased.

" _Yes."_

It was a whisper.

"Then let's go."

Tom's eyes were dilated and very carefully said, " **Just. Follow. Me.** "

Harry felt it in his head, and every thought, every action was stripped away except for the command. He couldn't fight it, not when it felt so good. Like a warm hug… it filled him with happiness.

They continued walking towards the rocky cliff where the sand gave way to rock, and soon, they entered a big gaping opening. The wind moaned as it passed through the cave, and Harry felt the chill as the air moved out. He pressed against the warmer body beside him.

"It's alright, nothing's going to hurt you here."

Harry tried to snap out of it, but could only follow Tom. There was a voice in his head, telling to _follow._ Obey. It was like a drum beat in his head. An incessant voice that chased out all the fear.

He was light as a feather.

The light from the entrance slowly receded and what little that remained came from the crevices overhead. It spilled on the floor creating patterns in jagged shapes.

"I came across this place several years ago when I was lost and looking for a place to hide. The snakes whisper things and lead me to places. I have never truly explored the depths but I know there is a lake up ahead."

They climbed and descended into a familiar passage way where the stones had not been touched by magic and was open for passage. "The water is warm, and if we stick close to the bank, it's shallow enough that it's safe to swim."

Only Tom's voice carried on, his hand the only warmth Harry knew of.

It became darker, and darker until it was almost pitch black. There was a soft green glow from the abyss. He saw nothing, and couldn't see Tom, but felt him there.

"You're doing very good, Harry. Why don't you light it up?"

Harry could feel himself nodding sluggishly.

Light flew off Harry's hand and illuminated the cavernous lake. Crystals lit up in varying shades of green. They were everywhere, glittering in the darkness.

Harry found his protests caught in his throat when Tom unbuttoned his long sleeve. His sluggish mind could only process the word 'safe' even as a part of him was saying 'no' as Tom took off his top. The next were his shorts. It was discarded near the bank and was joined by the other boy's clothing.

Tom began leading him towards the water. He was already knee deep when Harry felt it all come back to him.

"How do you like my gift, Harry?"

It was truly breathtaking in an almost magical sort of way. The crystals that surrounded them, the serenity of the cave. It was peaceful and picturesque. The air was cool enough, the water was warm and comforting.

It was corrupted by the memory of the lake of fire. He saw it like a broken replay, the corpses that rose up from it –all but trying to drag them down, trying to tear them limb to limb, and his desperation at hitting them with curses from the top of his head that couldn't do a thing because of their sheer number, thinking he was about to die, then fire, roaring fire– and Albus Dumbledore's _death_. No amount of pretty could shut it out and Harry tried to chase the bile off his throat.

Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. It was like falling down and not reaching the ground and he told himself it would pass.

Tom wrapped his arms around him, and Harry laid his chin on the other boy's shoulder, sagging.

"Harry."

Tom combed a hand through his hair and slowly, as Harry tried to concentrate on the feel of those fingers, he found that he could breathe. 'Breathe.'

"You're going to be okay…"

The panic slowly dispersed, allowing reason to return.

Coming down from it, Harry could see Tom's face so very close to him, his eyes reflecting the green of the cave.

" _What are you afraid of?"_

Harry heard it in his head.

Harry struggled, pushing away the other boy. "You! You… made me… you…"

Tom Riddle had his face down, his hair plastered on the sides of his face and he couldn't see his eyes.

Harry waded farther away, but slipped and found himself plunging into the dark depths.

Then he was spluttering for air. He struggled for a moment, remembering that he should kick out with his feet and let himself float.

A hand grabbed his and pulled him back to safety.

"Idiot."

Harry let himself be manhandled and found his back against the uneven patches of rock and crystal. He coughed out, his head hurting from the water he inhaled through his nostrils.

Tom hovered over him, looking upset. Droplets were falling on his face and Harry had to blink when some of them landed on his eye.

"You don't like it?"

Harry stopped looking at Tom and looked at the vast cavern which was lit up dimly with the light that he cast. When his light dimmed, Tom shot off another spark in the air, and it was even more brilliant in its intensity. The light lit up the entire place, with the walls and the water turning into pearly luminescence, the exact color of his eyes.

Harry thought it was pretty, beautiful in an eerie way.

But there was a heavy feeling in his chest, wondering if Tom had any inkling of what he just did. It was easy to think that Tom meant it just like how he consciously did everything with his powers but he wasn't perfect. But what if he meant it?

Harry didn't know what to do with the knowledge. He thought he'd be annoyed for a very long time.

"It's… pretty. It's very nice of you, Tom… but you did something very horrible to me."

"What are you talking about? What did I do, Harry? Tell me so I can _fix_ it."

Harry closed his eyes, then he sat up. He felt frustrated, and motioned for Tom to take a seat, trying to smile despite the unease of where he was in.

"Your words, they have power. When you want something, have you ever wondered why people just tend to _give in_?"

Tom was silent, but he had the other boy's complete attention. He was showing recognition.

"Since you're not completely aware of it, I think you can't control it. Don't get mad. I'm just saying what I think is happening."

Tom eyed him. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

Harry bit his lip, trying very carefully to consider his decision. His mind made, he said, "You just have to trust me. I'll tell you what it feels like if it helps but I can't do the same to you because I don't know how you even do it. So maybe… you can test it out on me?"

Tom lit up, as if a very tasty treat had been offered to him.

"You'll give me the chance… to practice this… _horrible_ thing _on you_?"

Harry nodded very slowly, "I trust you… it makes sense to use me… otherwise, I think you'd be using the other children to practice. Tom… so please?"

Tom considered the proposal.

"Harry–" Tom said his name, very slowly, as if he was savoring it on his tongue.

"I trust you."

He was saying it more to himself.

* * *

His head was going to break open. It hurt. He knew he was terribly exhausted after volunteering so stupidly.

The rest of the day went by in a blur after Tom dragged him back to the others. It wasn't that Tom did terrible things to him but Tom just didn't know when to _stop_.

At first, it was simple requests, like flexing his fingers. Then, it became more complex, like performing certain actions. Swimming with Tom was one. They learned that it was easier to make him do things he subconsciously wanted.

"It felt good. Your words float in my head… and it's as if it's all I can hear. I have to- obey you. And I feel like I'm so light… your magic makes it so easy."

The intent behind was something Harry knew, but Tom still had to grasp it. Asking Harry to stay underwater was something Harry didn't want, and something Tom didn't particularly want as well.

So by then they understood that it also doesn't work if Tom didn't _mean_ it. From there on, practicing it was easier for Tom but harder on Harry. Tom tested it when he made Harry float in the water, far, far… until he found himself in the middle of the lake and all it would take was for the panic to set in once more then he would definitely drown _and Tom wouldn't be able to save him_ , but it didn't.

Everything was still. Quiet. Not unlike the voice, the echoing whisper… _That's it. Drift. Stay Calm. You're alright._

The crystals were shining like a hundred thousand stars and he wanted to reach out to them but his hands and feet were spread apart, lazily, in the still green of the water. Eventually, he returned to the edge of the lake. After getting his bearings, he was just too horrified of what happened and accepted the offered hug.

Then Tom asked him why he was so afraid of the lake. He had to fight tooth and nail not to answer.

Despite the tiring day, his head wasn't hurting just because of the multiple _almost_ imperio like effects of Tom's magic.

It hurt in the same way when he was having nightmares of _Voldemort_. It was vivid and it was far too substantial to be a nightmare.

No. His nightmare was in fact, not a dream, but a _memory_. He was sure of it.

In the dream, it wasn't him but two familiar children who went to the cave with Tom. It was Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop. Looking at the boy who was sleeping in the opposite bed, he thought oh, this angelic looking child, Tom who told him he'll care for him, and protect him, was completely different.

He looked at the stretch of colorful pebbles and shells by their window. Tom did that for him when he couldn't do anything but rest right after eating lunch. He was left with Martha underneath the shade of the umbrella while she sung a lullaby.

Tom would come to them with the pebbles and the shells, and Harry would pick out the ones he liked. Martha seemed to approve of it, remarking that "it was good to see Tom warming up to someone else his age."

But he was lying to himself. Harry knew that Tom was capable of committing similar atrocities since they were essentially the same person.

Harry fought hard to dispel the traces of cruelty that Tom had on his face as he forced the children to do his bidding. There was no other word for it but torture and they broke. Both of them. He could feel it rushing in his blood, the _pleasure_ of seeing them writhe in pain, drowning, and forced to survive just because he thought it would be a waste to kill his two new _puppets_.

Harry brought his hand to his mouth at the implication of the memory.

_The nightmares rushing back_. The station–

"I have to go back, Tom."

"Then, take me with you?"

"I don't know if it's possible."

"It is."

"How… do you know that, Tom?"

**Blood Red Eyes**

**"** _**But you let me in. You came back for me. I believe I have every right to be here."** _

'Are you alive… inside of me?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know? Back then people were horribly conservative and it was considered indecent to be showing your navels if you were female. Guys could, in a way but they generally wore swimwear that covered part of it. Did you know that slippers (flip flops) haven’t been popular until after World War 2? There were some weird looking shoe designs that people wore back then, but I wouldn’t go into that. Oh, and Tom’s room in the movie was in room 27, but I think it’s easier to just leave it up to creative license since the book didn’t mention any of this (maybe). For all intents and purposes, their room is on the fourth floor of the orphanage. Also, it's true that Tom brought Amy and Dennis in the cave and "they were never the same again"... This happened before he even got into Hogwarts...? so this is me speculating about what Tom did to them that broke them *-*. If I'm wrong about any of this, please don't hesitate to tell me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the photos I have used so far. I merely took the original and edited them to provide more visual in the story. I'm weird like that but I think it's nice. *-*
> 
> Now. I’m not sure if anyone read my note at the start of the chapter but I was wondering if I should update every week but have shorter chapters, or update every other week (whenever possible) with the same amount of word count (like 3700-5000 words).
> 
> Anyway. I hope you guys like this! The comments keep me happy and inspired so please let me know your thoughts. I'd like to know the good and bad ones!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. Harry learns this the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning. Dark Chapter Ahead.**

Death was a natural phenomenon. Many have contemplated it endlessly. The very word brings fear and discomfort in the hearts of many. It is a subject that few enjoy. One, because it was inevitable. Two, because no one really understood its purpose or meaning.

A part of him, that dark forgotten part that he often tried to ignore, had opened its unforgiving maws as he began contemplating how sharp a knife would have to be so he could slit his own throat.

There were many, many ways to die. He just wanted it to be relatively painless. Avada Kedavra almost felt like a wistful option, in the way that it delivers a swift, seemingly painless death.

As he pondered on the sharpness of the knife, he thought about the possibility of surviving a fall from the fifth floor. It had to be higher than that, somewhere without trees, or things that would impede his fall.

It had to be something that even his magic shouldn't be able to fix, but that was the problem really. There were rules governing his existence that did not apply to other people.

It was perhaps the reason why he'd been sent in the past in the first place. He'd been careless. He thought that after having experienced it once or twice, he knew what would happen.

He began to assume that he would be deposited back into his body, again and again. Now, the uncertainty made him hesitate. He was lucky that this time, his body had magic and it was relatively healthy. All the what ifs kept him wondering if he should gamble to test the theory if he could die and live again. If death would give him answers he was looking for, was it worth the risk?

He sliced through it, watching the red bleed through.

The red gave way, soft, and wet. Juice spilling all around.

Then, he put it in his mouth.

"Harry, what have tomatoes ever done to you?"

Tom sat beside him, watching in obvious fascination as he repeatedly cut through them with vehemence.

"Can't you tell I like them, Tom?"

He put the utensils down and pushed the plate away. Half of his food was left untouched.

Tom frowned and scooted closer. The boy paid no mind to the curious onlookers as he proceeded to cut up the eggs. Soon, the mix of yellow and red sat on top of the spoon. It hovered next to his lips, asking for entrance.

Harry stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

" _Eat._ "

Harry felt his body go rigid at the command. Tom merely tilted his head. Blue eyes stared back unflinchingly.

Harry could go on ignoring the boy's command, or he could open his mouth and complain about Tom's continued use of this form of magic when he already warned him against using it.

He tried to push Tom's hands away but he felt the magic lash out in anger. None of it touched him but it made the table vibrate with suppressed energy.

Tom was just staring at him. Nothing on his face betrayed his increasing annoyance. So he opened his mouth and the spoon went in.

When he began chewing, Tom flashed him a smile that was overflowing with sweetness. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Tom," Harry said his name with a hint of reprimand.

"There's something bothering you. I can tell," came the sharp reply.

Tom left the spoon on the plate and took a sip of his glass of water. There was the unspoken request of _eat or else_.

"It's none of your business."

"It is, actually."

"And why is that?"

Tom seemed tired of repeating himself, but said it anyway.

"Because I promised to take care of you."

Harry really couldn't argue against Tom's stubbornness. He tried his best to finish the meal, and Tom was very pleased. The feeling buzzed along his skin like a cat's purr.

* * *

He was almost positive he was hosting the monster, a shard, or Voldemort himself, but he wasn't sure if he should start conversing with it. It wasn't as simple as speaking in his head or asking the question out loud. He tried both.

It was why he considered it, killing himself.

If he threatened to harm the container, would _Voldemort_ act out and speak to him? Will he meet Death? He pondered on this while staring at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He swirled the glass of water, gargling, and paused. He could break the glass and take a pointy shard, hold it against his neck.

He could.

Would it make a difference?

But the thought was too scary.

It was impulsive and meaningless. It would have to wait.

* * *

His continued practice of Occlumency wasn't doing much and when he thought about it, it was probably counter-productive. All this time, he was learning how to _block_ people from entering his mind, but it seemed another else entirely to let them in.

So now, he was attempting to do both, to relax it, and to strengthen it. He only had his memories to work with, the sad Occlumency lessons with Snape and the lazy afternoons when he had nothing else to do.

Occlumency was the precursor to Legilimency and perhaps one day, he would learn that particular skill too. There were three people central to his life that were masters of it. That was Voldemort, Snape, and Albus Dumbledore.

From what he'd learned from Tom, it wasn't because he enjoyed the skill. It was just there, and he couldn't turn it off. Tom was just a child and he was handed out a platter of power. Anyone with half a mind would know that a kid with power spelt disaster. It was a miracle that nothing entirely disastrous had occurred so far especially when Tom didn't know the full consequences of using or misusing magic.

Learning Legilimency could be saved for another time, that is… if he ever bothered to. It was a skill that he had to self study.

He was at the stage where he could bring down his barriers and bring them back up when he needed to. He was also beginning to learn how to push certain thoughts to the surface, keeping the real ones hidden.

In essence, it was like learning to lie but _better_.

He tested it out on Tom whose natural affinity for Legilimency meant that he was almost always trying to read everyone's minds, by extension his. Tom enjoyed his thoughts, sparse as they were, and it was because of a random whim on his part – an absurd urge for iced lollies that made itself pronounced for the past hour inside his head – that they were sitting in the courtyard under the shade of the tree with the treat on one hand, a pencil on the other and a book on his lap.

Tom had some money. They got a cheap double popsicle which they shared. Tom was already finished with his. The other boy sat enamored with a white bird, a collared dove, beside him.

It was one of the many animals Tom has been playing with.

By the looks of things, the poor thing had been subject to the boy's magic and it has been sitting with them for the duration of their stay, perfectly obedient. He had something to say to that because of course he disapproved. He kept his mouth shut though, more concerned with the stack of assignments that was due tomorrow. He procrastinated, thinking that just because he had the _memories_ and _skills_ , he could laze around and do them all in one go. Sadly, his assignments would not write itself and Tom would never accept anything less than perfect.

"What's the harm in practicing with other people, Harry?" Tom asked as he touched the dove's plume with the dry stick from the popsicle. He stroked the bird's cheek with the wood and watched it lean against it.

Black beady eyes were staring back at Tom and only at him, never anywhere else.

Harry squinted across the text on the book as he began writing down the answer to the problem.

_Why does the speaker regard poverty, famine, crime…_

"It's not as if they would remember it. If anything, they would blame it on themselves. People do random things after all. They will never know it was me."

Harry began writing down his answers on the piece of paper he had in between the book while Tom coaxed the bird to walk back and forth.

Tom was delighted and Harry felt the boy relax against his side, head lazily leaning on his shoulder.

Harry put his pencil down, and tapped on the page.

"Can you tell me why you're so confident about that." Harry asked.

Tom gave him a look of pure innocence, and Harry could find no trace of guilt or malice even if Tom's face was close enough that he could begin counting the boy's individual lashes, "If you're right and I _have_ been using this ability many times before, nobody knows about it. Nobody except you, Harry."

The boy blew on his face and Harry closed his eyes, a little annoyed. Tom smirked and stretched a hand up in the air, while the other began wrapping itself around Harry's shoulders. Harry felt like his personal space had been oh-so violated. He began slouching against the added weight, failing to inch away.

He tried to shove Tom off but the other boy laid his chin on his shoulder. Harry found himself looking at the other children who were playing in the courtyard and knew none of them would come to his aid. They were too busy laughing and screaming fun, running around and being children.

That, and Tom would probably murder them in their sleep if they came too close.

Harry pursed his lips. "What is your point and can you please, move away? Someone is trying to study here."

"No."

Tom shook his head, and Harry glared but the boy was content to stay where he was. Tom's voice was like a murmur when he began talking close to his ear, "You see, if they don't know and they won't come to realize it, why shouldn't I use them instead? It would save us both the trouble. I don't want you to collapse. You look so exhausted, Harry."

Harry groaned inside his head. 'Whose fault is that?'

"How many times do I have to tell you. It's wrong and you know that."

"What if I promise not to make them do anything _harmful_? _"_ Tom said in an almost sing-song voice, and Harry flipped another page.

He almost wished he took up the offer to look at Tom's work. It would have saved the time. 'Right. I didn't because I'm a self-sacrificing Gryffindor, and I don't want Tom to grow up to become the biggest prick in the world.'

"You seem really eager about this. I don't even know why you're trying to convince me. Do I even have a choice?"

"By now, you should know the answer to that… but I like it when you agree with me. So, Harry… what do you say?"

Tom's magic glided across, the dove thoroughly forgotten, and it flew away as fingers began dancing at Harry's temples.

Harry moaned, feeling relief from the pounding headache that he didn't even know he had.

Then Tom covered his eyes.

"I insist that you need _rest_. It's good for both of us." Amused, Tom hissed in parseltongue, " _Your lolly is melting, Harry_."

Harry shoved the candy in his mouth and sucked.

"I won't hurt anyone. I won't make them do things that would cause them pain… you know I need to control this. I'll be good."

Harry almost wanted to say yes. Tom seemed sincere enough and he was giving such a heavenly massage that he found himself yawning, eyes closing in bliss. He wanted to curl up and sleep.

"You can look at my assignment too."

Harry sighed. He felt like he was going to hell for even considering it but it was so tempting. It's been weeks since he was able function like a proper human being and he almost always felt like a zombie these days after every session. The days when he did feel lucid, he was plotting for ways to converse with the monster in his head, or die, or both.

Who knew compulsion could be so tiring to fight? He blamed it on his nine-year-old body.

"Okay."

Harry felt the spike of sheer happiness at the word. He closed his eyes and felt the boy take away the book and the pencil, setting it aside. And then, Tom forced him to lie down, on his lap.

By now, Harry was used to being manhandled.

Harry felt fingers pry away the ice-candy– "Hey!"

Tom tilted the thing upside down, so it would drip the opposite way, the sticky melted syrup dripped away from Harry's fingers. Tom held it above his face and Harry opened his mouth and so Tom could put the sugary treat back in.

Then Harry bit the rest of it, prying the icy bits with his teeth so it could all sit on his tongue, swirling then swallowing melted happiness.

Tom was now looking elsewhere, examining the children who played a little farther from where they were. He looked at them clinically, one by one, as if trying to pick a target.

"Please try not to do anything bad. If you do, and I find out, I swear I'll do something you don't like."

Tom cooed, "Don't worry Harry. I promise. Nothing bad."

* * *

It was dripping all around him. He was so wet that it felt disgusting. Sticky. Dirty.

And he could see the mountain of corpses that made his bed. Eyes wide open, staring at him in accusation. Hair, nails, body parts, strewn around, sticking on his white robe that was soaking the color red.

He stood up in a daze and descended, bodies falling down one by one as he attempted to get down from the top. Cold lifeless bodies, unmoving like puppets in varying shades of white and blue as if they were all but bled dry.

And on their skin, a mess of jagged lines, tattered limbs, and innards. Red. _Red_ **Red**.

He took a tumble through it and fell onto the pool below.

It was thick and it threatened to drown him. It filled his nose with the stench of something metallic. It was too strong. It threatened to make him wretch. It was on his face and on his hands, and he wanted to wipe his eyes so he could see and blink back the blood that was dripping from his lashes.

He blinked, trying to get rid of the red, shaking his head, watching droplets from his hair fly around everywhere.

He could feel the panic set in.

' _Where am I? What am I doing here?!'_

He could taste it on his lips. The ground was uneven from the things that lurked beneath and he tried not to think about what he was stepping on. He just had to survive it.

He just had to.

Breathe. Breathe.

'No… No… Someone… Help!'

It was coming in short ragged bursts. His breathing erratic. His pulse a staccato beat as he splashed around.

The blood felt like hands trying to drag him down, and it made it hard to move.

He closed his eyes but his eyes were open and try as he might, the darkness wouldn't come.

* * *

They gave him a haircut. Martha mentioned it was growing too long and they have to crop it short. Now it was relatively shorter just like how it was when he was once eleven. His dark hair seemed to curl a little around the edges instead of sticking out in different directions. He almost missed having it long, because now he felt the wind on his shoulders and neck.

When he turned this way and that, he noticed that his hair didn't bounce around as much. He missed the weight.

Aside from the haircut, he received two other things.

He thought that in this lifetime, he wouldn't be afflicted with the same problem but apparently, even the bodies had to be similar. Tom brought it to his attention when he noticed he had been squinting too much while reading their textbook and promptly told him he needed to get his eyes checked.

They visited the optometrist.

He chose the circular glasses because it was what he'd grown used to. It sat on his nose now as he began to slice up the cake. He offered one slice to Martha and one to Tom.

"I know the glasses look weird. Stop staring at me."

"No, not at all dear. I think you look adorable with it," Martha said and heartily laughed.

"I'm not adorable." Harry muttered.

"Of course you are."

Harry pushed the rim of the glasses a little higher as he cut out his own portion.

"I think… it makes your face look smaller," Tom offered before chewing on the piece of cake.

"Now now, it's your birthday. Come on, eat. Tom's been telling me you haven't been eating well. That won't do at all. You will never grow taller at this rate."

Harry puffed his cheeks, "I'm not small!"

Tom smirked.

"I grew an inch." Harry added.

"And I," Tom gestured to himself, "remain a head taller than you."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Tom."

Harry resisted the urge to stick out his tongue.

"Harry, you are simply in denial. You're small. Deal with it."

They were sitting in Martha's office. Surprisingly enough, she had one for herself, although it was tiny and a little cramped for three people. She had recipe books and several stacks of paper, receipts, and a potted plant.

Harry stabbed the cake with his fork and put it in his mouth. Promptly, the boy melted on his seat.

"Have I ever told you I love you Martha?"

Harry closed his eyes at the taste. "This cake… is just amazing. You should… I dunno. Start your own bakery!"

"I love you too, dear."

Martha ruffled his hair and smiled at him fondly.

* * *

Harry wondered about his last dream. It was disturbing. It frightened him. Maybe it was because he was thinking of death a little bit too much that he dreamt of it. It almost made him want to stay up and not sleep, but he was exhausted.

The day had been relatively tiring. The morning, they had another surprise visit by two couples looking to adopt two young children. Some two-year-old was chosen. Then he had to sit with the rest of the kids getting a haircut. The barber did a quick work of his hair but waiting in line was boring. Then, they went out with Martha to get his eyes checked. In the middle of it, just right after he was told his eyesight was bad, it began raining and going back to the orphanage, they had to run.

When they got back, Tom practiced magic with him. It lasted until dinner and when dinner was done, they got a quick surprise when Martha knocked on their door and brought them in her office.

He was honestly surprised she bothered.

Once they finished the cake, Tom all but dragged him out, excited.

In the privacy of their room, he was handed out a box. It was red and wrapped with a black bow.

"What's this?"

"A gift."

Tom made no hint that he knew about the birthday and Harry was in shock at seeing the gift all wrapped up. He read the small greeting card.

"To Harry. Thanks for becoming my friend. I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you use it well. Wow."

"You didn't have to read it out loud," Tom scoffed.

"I wanted to."

"Just open it," Tom flicked a hand in the air in impatience.

Harry began unwrapping it very carefully, and he probably took longer than Tom thought was needed that the older boy rolled his eyes. After a minute of unwrapping, he found a black leather notebook.

"We have matching pairs."

Harry began staring at the diary and felt a little emotional. It's been so long since he received a proper birthday present. It felt that way.

"You didn't have to, Tom."

"It's your birthday."

"I know, but it must have cost you." Harry tucked a piece of stray hair and put away the diary.

"It's nothing, Harry. Just accept it."

Harry tried to hide it with his hands but it felt really nice to receive a gift.

Harry felt a smile bloom so wide, and he went over to Tom's side. He wrapped the other boy in a well-deserved hug, all but tackling him in bed and resting his head on the other boy's chest.

"Thanks Tom."

Contentment buzzed both ways.

"You're welcome."

Harry sighed, relishing the comfort of just being near him.

"Do you love me too?" Tom asked, in all mock-seriousness.

Harry nodded his assent.

"Say it."

Harry grinned and said, "I love you too."

Harry sighed in comfort and removed his shoes by pushing it against the bed frame. Then he proceeded to crawl over the other boy and settle himself by the wall right next to him.

Tom let him.

The two of them listened to the sound of the rain as it went pitter pattering against the window and the walls of Wool's Orphanage.

The rain always made it somewhat colder, so just like every other night that it was, he thought it was nice to share a bed.

Harry felt the other boy pull him closer.

"Do you really love Martha, Harry?"

"I don't _love_ her that way."

"What way?"

"You know what I mean…"

Tom merely hummed at this.

"Well… she's like an aunt to me…" Harry laid his head on the boy's shoulder as Tom began brushing his hair.

"Really, and what about me?"

Tom turned to face him. Harry kept his eyes closed, feeling lethargic.

"You're like… a brother… Best friend?"

Harry yawned.

"What is love to you, Harry?"

Harry furrowed his brows, "I don't know. It's when you feel like you're really close to someone… and you don't want anything bad to happen to him or her. Or when you just want to see them smile… forever? You want to make them happy, and do things for them you normally don't do for others. It's a lot of things… I don't think there's any other way to understand it… but you feel it and you just know it's love."

Tom trailed his fingers across the crown of his head, stopping behind the now soft curls on his neck. He shivered at the light touches and then, a mischievous thought popped.

"Are you jealous? You're asking about this now because I told Martha I love her and you never heard it from me before!" Harry teased, remembering how he mentioned it and Tom was silent. He should have looked at Tom, wondering what sort of expression the boy had on his face when he said it.

Tom gripped his hair tight and Harry winced.

"I'm not. Jealous."

Harry fought against the teasing smile that threatened to show on his face. He held Tom's wrist away from his hair so he could prevent incurring more damage to his scalp.

"I know you are. It's fine… I'm used to it by now. Sometimes I can't believe you get so angry with the smallest of things. I'm sorry I didn't say it to you first."

"You don't sound sorry."

Harry snickered and said, "Yes. You're right. I'm not sorry. It's just funny you're jealous of Martha… of all people…"

Harry fluttered his lashes, not quite done yet, "What about you, Tom? Do you love me?"

"I guess."

"You guess!? I'm hurt, Tom."

"Liar."

Tom scowled and the boy promptly turned around so Harry had his face pressed against the boy's back. He sighed.

"Since you got me a really nice present… and you've been really nice to me and all that… I'll tell you a secret Tom."

Harry felt Tom's immediate interest.

"At this point in time… more than anything that exists in the world, I love you the most."

Harry felt his cheeks go warm. He felt it was weird to admit it out loud but it was the truth. It was a selective truth since his family would always hold a special place in his heart but, maybe this was enough to convince Tom. He just wanted hammer it down Tom's love starved head so he could stop being so _angry_ all the time whenever someone got close.

He felt a bit embarrassed after saying it though, and the silence was making it even more apparent. He was really thankful Tom was facing the other way.

"…More than Martha?"

Harry closed his eyes.

"Yes."

It almost made him stop thinking of _home._

* * *

The cream walls hung small portraits which moved, greeting him as he passed by. On one, there was Ginny in her professional Quidditch attire. One had Ron and Hermione, two newly-weds, holding Harry in the middle and he looked so out of place as they both wore white. He wore black. They looking a tad bit older, while he looked too young to be wearing his auror robes.

There was a photo of Sirius, his godson Teddy, Luna, friends and people close to him.

On the table, there were photos of his children in their various ages.

A muggle radio was playing a song in the background. Light dusted through the open windows, showing him the large garden and the walls that surrounded the small manor.

His hands traced the pictures, those that he could reach.

The smell of French toast and ham which was served on the table wafted through his nostrils.

It clashed against the scent of blood in the air.

"Harry, I've been _waiting_ for you. Come dine with me," Tom sat on the table and gestured at the food.

As if it was perfectly normal to offer a food when there was carnage all around them.

Behind the boy, there was Ginny Weasley, stabbed through the wall with the knife on her forehead.

On the couch, his three children asleep, blue and lifeless.

"Now, now. Don't be so shy. I promise, I won't bite."

"What are you playing at?"

Harry refused to move, wary at what Voldemort wanted.

He could remember the numerous dreams, most of them mockeries of his family, but _this_ one was bordering on unforgivable.

"I just want you to eat, _Harry_. You're all skin and bones. Too small for your age. You need food, don't you?" The imposter taunted.

Harry found himself crossing the living room, swift strides until he was right at the bastard's face. His hand moved too fast, and there was a sharp sound as the flat of his palm hit the boy's face.

Tom tilted his head away from the hand, in a manner that reminded him of _his_ Tom and Harry felt wary.

An invisible hand pushed him on the opposite chair.

"I wish you'd make up your mind, Harry. You wished to speak to me, and now that we're together, all you can think of his hurting me." Voldemort leaned closer.

"I can feel your hate," The voice hissed in glee.

Harry took a deep breath and began, "I want to know what you're planning, and why you're still alive. I killed you. All of you."

Tom began twirling a lock of hair, and grinned, "You ask me to spill my secrets when you have not offered anything."

"Then what do you want?"

"Ah, do not tempt me, Harry. I want a _lot_ of things."

"Why are you doing this? Tell me!" Harry tried to stay calm, but he felt a burning anger, coupled by fear at being so close to the monster. He could feel the panic, trying to claw through the false bravado, when all he wanted to do was run away and hide.

"So. Impatient."

"I don't want you. I want you to leave. I'll find a way."

"That's impossible. We are tied together, you and I."

"Tied? I saw you die… how are you still alive?"

"You'll find out, Harry. We have plenty of time to become acquainted."

Tom began laughing, and the knife on Ginny's forehead slipped, together with her body. It was the sight of her, bleeding on the floor that broke all sense of control Harry had until he was a fit of rage.

"I told you to stop it!" Harry crashed against the other boy, clawing, scratching and strangling him. The plates fell and shattered.

His hands wrapped around the throat of the laughing boy as the muggle radio sang.

_Time goes by…_

Harry felt horror as Tom looked at him, delightedly, never mind that he was trying to kill him. The monster was enjoying it.

_so slowly_

_And time can do so much_

Harry tightened his hands, "I killed you once, and I can do it again."

_Are you still mine?_

_I need your love_

"But don't you love me, Harry?"

_I need your love_

"I don't. You're a monster. You're not Tom. You're _Voldemort_."

_God speed your love_

"Very good… Harry, I'm impressed you finally _figured it out_ ," Tom's voice was positively acidic and oozing with malice.

Harry recoiled, as if struck but hands snaked on his face, and suddenly he couldn't move. "I will tear you from the inside out. Once you break, and _you will_ break… I will wear your skin and Harry Potter will be no more."

_to me_

"You can't do that," Harry accused.

"Do you really want to see me try? The mind is a fragile thing, and I'm already inside yours."

_Lonely rivers flow_

Harry could feel it, memories, feelings and thoughts, getting touched by the monster, getting corrupted, "Don't–"

_To the sea, to the sea_

Harry felt pain as the monster wormed itself in, even deeper. "You were doing such a good job, keeping me out, but you sought me out… for days, you've worn your pathetic shields down, and now, it will only take a mere thought to rip–" And Harry felt pain at this, "them apart."

Harry could feel something… something very important… a memory of Ginny, memories of her, slipping away…

_To the open arms of the sea_

"What are you doing?… Stop it."

_Lonely rivers sigh_

Harry felt his fingers loosen and he slumped forward, clutching at his head.

Harry could feel the horror now, since the memories were the only things that kept him together. He didn't want to lose them. He collapsed and arms wrapped around him, in a mockery of comfort. They lay there on the floor, the broken plates around them, the muggle radio playing in static.

_Wait for me, wait for me_

"Shhh… Harry, _my_ Harry… you poor thing. I only meant to scare you a little. Are you scared?" Voldemort asked, delighted.

_I'll be coming home, wait for me_

Harry couldn't speak. He tried to hold on to her memory. The girl he loved the most. He tried to remember her face, her laugh, the way she would always linger, watchful, present when he needed her. He tried to recall the color of her hair. It was red. 'Was it red?'

The dead body on the floor, was it her or someone else?

"Look at me when I speak to you. Do you really treasure her so much? This _Ginny._ " The name was spat out, as if a curse.

_Oh, my love,_

Then, he was the one underneath glass digging on his back, with the monster straddling him. He was Tom in all ways except the red eyes which burned in fury. Harry was looking this time and he was scared. "I can make you forget everything, until you're an obedient puppet."

_my darling_

"Bastard–"

Harry struggled underneath, but impossibly strong hands held him down, until all he could see were red eyes that haunted his every waking moment.

"Don't test my patience. I will give you a chance to coexist with me. I demand two things. One. You will keep yourself safe and never attempt to harm yourself."

_I've hungered, for your touch_

"Two, you will open yourself to me."

"No. I won't–"

_A long, lonely time_

Harry screamed when a shard of glass stabbed through his hand. "You don't have a choice. You _will_ offer yourself or you will know the consequences of displeasing me."

"You won't get away with this…" Harry grit his teeth, his eyes watering at the pain "I'll find a way…" Harry felt his voice grow close to was whisper, as the shard dug deeper, "to get rid of you."

_Time goes by_

" _You will never get rid of me."_

The shard of glass began cutting upwards, up to his wrist, to his arm.

_Pain._

"I'll kill you! I will fucking kill you!"

" _Such a foul mouth. So full of hate."_

Then there was a kiss on his forehead where his scar once lay.

"The choice is yours. Think about it, my precious Horcrux."

* * *

He woke up in cold sweat. Fear unlike any other gripped him. He almost wanted to scream himself hoarse, frustrated because he thought he was infected with no cure. He was a malignant thing, with that body of his that hosted the monster. He wanted to be away from everyone, for the fear of the harm that he might cause them.

Voldemort.

He never wanted to see him again. He wanted no part of it, no part of _him_.

He felt the maddening urge to flee, away from the child beside him who was so _innocent_ in comparison. He wanted to run away from it all.

He could recall the 'nightmare' in all its finest details.

The threat hung in the air, and it was as if every moment that passed, he was losing more of her.

His memory failed him when he tried to recall her.

What was she like? Beyond the idea that she was his most beloved... Who was she?

Harry tried to recall her face, but only remembered the vague recollection of who she was. He felt tortured that he could not even put a face to her name. Was she the mother of his children? Was she a figment of his imagination?

' _Ginny_.'

Harry shuddered in Tom's embrace when the boy's arms tightened, pulling him closer, the bond trying to force _calm_ but could do nothing with the rising panic.

Harry tried to recall even the feeling of her _love_ but that too was gone. He tried not to cry because he wasn't weak. He was strong.

The memory of her was gone. Almost completely.

Gone.

The finality of the word was too sharp. Too sudden.

It was too painful.

He felt the tears come. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this.

Faced with the prospect of losing her and what was _home_ and then becoming a shell of his former self, a _puppet_ , Harry made the choice. He knew he should give it more time but the wrongness, the emptiness was too much.

His memories were all that he had of them. The threat of losing them... He could not afford to lose them too.

' _I accept you.'_

And it was as if that acceptance opened a floodgate and Harry shivered at the feel of his own magic, tainted, caressing his skin.

Just like that, Harry could see her face again in perfect clarity. He thought he was so selfish, clinging onto that thread of hope.

He could hear laughter in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts is coming soon. I feel like things are going to stay bad before it becomes better. I think I discarded over half the chapter length while writing this but I finally managed to get it out yey! I haven't done a final proofread, but since I'm tired... I'll save it for later.
> 
> As for the question last chapter, I've decided to update whenever possible XD. The chapters will probably stay long but it may take a week or 2 before I update.
> 
> I'm in the process of working on the next one. I do hope you enjoyed reading this chapter *-*. Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks subscriptions and all the comments. Let me know what you think *_*


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry takes a much needed trip to visit the wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been awhile. I'm still alive. D: A lot of things happened *-* but yeah this is the first time I'm updating a work that I've kept on hold for a year. I wasn't really sure if I could continue writing it because it's been so long since I last updated it and I wasn't sure if I would still get the feel of the story even if I had it all planned out in my head. So I put it on hold and decided to post other works in the mean time. I have a lot in progress but nothing as slow paced as this one. The time skip will happen in the next chapter. It's been a year, so to those who are reading this chapter for the first time in a while, you might want to skim through the previous ones just to get a gist of what already happened.
> 
> The chapter is a little cliché in a manner, but I hope you forgive me for taking my liberties. I hope you enjoy~

He twisted out the bed, out of Tom's arms and into the hallway to the shared bathroom in an almost robotic fashion. In front of the mirror, he took a look at his face. Harry thought he resembled inferi, with ghastly white skin and dark circles under his eyes. It was an exaggeration, but he did look like crap. He brushed his teeth, took a shower, and went back to his room. He began changing, ignoring the boy who was already awake looking curious.

Tom was on his bed, with the blanket still covering his legs and feet. The other boy wouldn't stop staring at him and it was only when Harry began to turn towards him that Tom smiled. It was bright and cheery.

"Good morning, Harry. You're up early."

Harry just smiled weakly and lied, "I had a nightmare."

Tom tilted his head to the side and asked, "Do you remember what's it about?"

"I don't really want to talk about it. Oh… and I'm going out today, Tom. I'll talk to Martha and I'm sure she'll agree."

The silence was enough that if a pin dropped, it could be heard. Tom brought one knee close to his chest encircling it with one arm, doubt lingering on his eyes and said, "That's strange. I don't like this. You've been avoiding me, and now you want to keep things to yourself. Where are you going, Harry? Care to tell me?"

Harry clenched his fists, trying to fight against the urge to snap at Tom, and forced the calm, "I'm just… I need time to think on my own. If you must know, I want to see my old home as well. I won't be gone for a long time, and… I'll tell you eventually, Tom."

Tom sighed, "I really don't understand you. What's the point of hiding things now when you'll tell me eventually? Will Martha be coming with you at least?"

Harry bit his lips and shook his head. It was very difficult to lie to Tom. "Then who will? No one?"

Harry sighed and looked away. He felt Tom's increasing worry and dissapointment.

"Are you an idiot? Do you think it's safe to go out alone? I'm coming with you."

"No. You have to stay here. I promise… this is the only time I'm going out."

"You're hiding things from me. I've never done that to you, Harry. You're being unfair."

Harry stepped closer to the boy and sat on the bed and almost smiled at how petulant Tom seemed. Magic was coiling around the room almost threatening to swallow him whole but he was used to this already. He resisted the urge to smile at the thought that Tom was finally acting his age. Tom was right though. Harry thought that the idea was preposterous, but he wasn't sure how to go about leaving the orphanage without Tom trailing after him.

They've always been together, and Tom wouldn't have it any other way, especially because Harry just got attacked even under the threat of his obvious retribution. Harry understood that. He also knew that it was dangerous for a kid to be out in the streets but he was confident that nothing would happen to him. Not this time.

Voldemort would never let his vessel be harmed after all, and this was the first real step he's taking to understand the state of the Wizarding world. He was not powerful enough to cast a memory charm that Tom would forget what happened and he wasn't even sure if it was possible to cast it on a natural Legilimens. That said, there was no way he could think of hiding the little excursion from Tom. He could also just disappear for half a day without informing him, but that would bring more trouble than asking for his permission.

Because strangely enough, that's what he was doing. The child in him thought that he owed Tom that much and he didn't want to drive a wedge in their friendship by being so… selfish? He did find it particularly strange that both of them were too attached to each other. It got him comparing the relationship he shared with Ron and Hermione who were also stuck to him like magnets.

As children, whenever Harry wanted to do something on his own, the two would always tag along, but something was different with the way Tom seemed to always want to know _everything_. He was every bit of controlling and possessive, and while that was okay now, Harry also wanted his own space – especially now that he had a Dark Lord residing inside his mind.

With another step closer, he found himself sitting on Tom's bed, close enough to touch. Tom watched him like a predator watching prey.

He pressed his forehead against Tom, and hissed in the language they shared, " _Please, just this once? It's not going to take long, Tom. I'll be safe. Don't worry too much."_

Tom stared at him for the longest time, and Harry could feel him trying to slither in his mind, but he kept his walls up. Annoyed, Tom pushed him away, and lied down on his bed once more. He covered his face with a blanket and murmured, " _Fine. I don't think I can convince you to stay… but if you come back hurt, I will not allow this again, Harry."_

* * *

It was strange, to be possessed by something other than his own thoughts. His mind was already an amalgamation of his past and present selves or present and future selves, whichever way one had to look at it. Topped with Voldemort's consciousness, it felt as if it was getting too crowded.

But.

While having Voldemort in his head was disgusting and horrifying, the past few weeks of dealing with his presence was enough to make Harry conclude that it's not the end of the world and yes, they could learn to tolerate each other.

There were also benefits to having him around.

' _You said you'll help me, today._ '

He heard the answering voice in his head.

**I will. I never break my promises, Harry.**

It was then that he felt a floodgate of magic open, and Harry watched the door open by itself without him even willing it to do so. 'Show off.' Martha was in her office, slowly organizing documents, and receipts. She looked up from the desk and Harry came closer.

"Harry, what brings you here?"

A strand of magic, not much different from the one that Tom used, started moving towards her, and he watched in morbid fascination as her hands slackened. The paper she was holding on to fluttered towards the table. Harry wasted no more time and demanded, "You'll let me go out today, Martha. I won't be long… You won't worry about me. You don't have to. You will not find this request strange at all."

Martha smiled at him, and said, "Of course, Harry."

* * *

And it was one crime after another.

Outside the walls of the orphanage, Harry started walking, dainty little steps that belied his nervousness. It was probably because he knew that day, he wasn't truly prepared to be doing something so against what he believed in, but it was easy enough to understand that doing it was necessary. So he tried to ignore his thoughts that screamed what he was doing was wrong.

It was not easy to select who, when, and where, until the opportunity presented itself. He bumped into a man and when Harry looked up, he thought in his head, 'You would do. You look okay. Give me your money _._ '

Harry felt his magic swirl around him, and around the man. He heard Voldemort's amused laughter in his head as the man pulled out his wallet and gave him all his money. Harry blanched and gave some of it back, looking at the wad of pound notes and coins he now had on his hands.

He observed around him and was relieved that no one was looking. He stepped closer towards the man, who was still looking a bit dazed.

"Can you… come with me? I need to go to Leaky Cauldron. It's in Charring Cross Road and I'm not sure how to go there."

There was little to no response as the man merely nodded his head. Harry bit his lip, wondering if his magic was clouding the man's thoughts too much and eased it out.

Awareness seeped through the man's face and his ability to speak returned, "We must take a cab. Walking will take us an hour."

Harry shivered with anxiety when the man touched his back, guiding him to the side of the road, apparently aware of what Harry wanted before he spoke it. Soon, they were inside a black cab, and Harry watched the vehicle go through the early morning streets of London.

The adults were out, and since it was a weekend, he saw some of them with their children. He could never get used to seeing London in such a state. It was so different from his old life, and he couldn't help but see a mirage of what used to be there. Harry knew he had to stop feeling bewildered every time he set foot in it.

It could have been the apparent exhaustion of having to exercise his magic for so long that had him lean against the side of the car, and healmost fall asleep. A hand shook him to alertness. A voice told him, "We've arrived."

The man paid the driver with the money that Harry stole from him.

"I'll be alright on my own now. Please forget whatever happened today."

He stretched a little, and breathed easier. Harry felt instantly annoyed at how easily he tired for doing simple things but perhaps it's because he was using wandless magic that the drain was bigger. Harry left the man looking listless just outside of Leaky Cauldron.

The said pub was a truly fascinating place. It was so famous and it was found in the middle of London, but no muggle was aware of its existence. Muggle repelling charms were amazing.

Before entering the pub, he saw the familiar sign that had peculiar symbols of the stories from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. They were all there, a cauldron with a boot, a puppet with a flower, a stump of wood with a face, prickly flowers, a bird that cawed at the top and nestled in between all of them, a nondescript symbol of the hallows.

Seeing the symbols once more brought a mix of feelings, as if some part of him was longing to be reunited to it. Another part was busy cursing it because it was the reason for all his recent troubles.

The inside of the pub was dingy and homey looking. Because it already had a reputation, it was filled with people despite its shabbiness. Harry remembered staying in one of their rooms and pondered about the thought of staying there indefinitely. On the higher floor, there were rooms that could be rented out which had surprisingly bright and refreshing decor in sharp contrast to what he was currently seeing.

He played with the idea of finding a potion to hasten his growth. In the past few months, he carefully noted his growth, and he knew that unlike his old life, he was not stuck in one particular form. He could still age in this lifetime. As an adult, people wouldn't look at him as if he'd grown another head. He already saw people looking at him curiously but he kept his head bowed. He thought he could also sell potions that would make a pretty good source of income… but the thought of Tom erased those possibilities away. He was already far too attached.

He hurried, hoping that he would not get stopped. He went towards the wall and tapped a pattern with his fingers before any sort of conversation could stop him. He was just another child that was probably left behind by his parents. That was an easy enough story to believe, but if he lingered then people would remember his face.

The bricks rearranged itself, opening up to a rather familiar and welcoming sight.

The ambience inside Leakly Cauldron was enough to make his skin tingle with remembrance but outside of it and into Diagon Alley, Harry had his breath taken away. He felt as if, a part of him just returned home. _This_ was his world.

A quick survey with his eyes gave him the conclusion that not much changed. A few stores were open and they were the same ones that he knew from back in his time. There was the apothecary, the broomstick store, and he found one bookstore he'd been looking for.

'You'll assist me with the books we need?'

Harry stepped towards it, and hoped he did not meet any professor along the way. There was only so much wandless magic that he could do. He could see some students moving around, and a couple of adults.

**Visit Gringotts first. Do a lineage and inheritance test with the money we've gained.**

'From what I know, I'm a muggleborn. There's no way this body is special.'

**It does not matter what you know. Do as I say and we might be pleasantly surprised.**

'What about getting a wand?'

**It has its merits, but Dumbledore will notice, and there is a trace that you cannot break until you brew a potion that can dissolve it.**

'I still can't believe Dumbledore is still alive here.'

**Yes. It is extremely unpleasant that he is.**

Harry sighed and instead of heading to Flourish and Blotts or Obscurus, he began walking to Gringotts first. He really marveled at how little the shops changed. He was busy admiring the little things that made him remember his own trip for the first time, staring wide eyed at everything.

Diagon Alley had a certain charm to it that most places found difficult to replicate. It was as if stepping into it was an indoctrination to the magical world, because everything around him was saturated with magic.

**Don't marvel at it, be disgusted. The fact that nothing changed shows how our society has simply stagnated and has been left behind by muggles.**

Harry perked at this, and asked, 'If you know that muggles have grown more powerful, and we haven't… then isn't that enough proof that they're also our equals… in a way?'

**They will never be our equals, Harry. We can perform miracles, while they cannot. Our bodies are far superior. We live far longer than they could ever do. Their kind only knows how to destroy, and they fight petty wars that bring far more death than should ever be possible. With their careless hands, they ruin the earth, when it is the only known place that can host life. They are truly insipid creatures that should be squashed down before they spread their disease. Wizards are capable of far greater things.**

To some part, Harry could agree but argued back, 'They're the same people that landed in the moon. They have airplanes that fly people from one part of the earth to another. They invented things like lightbulbs, the telephone, television, cars, robots, the internet… all these things and… you know, it's not nice to just categorize all of them as useless or boring. There's not just one type of muggle just like how there's no one type of wizard. We are all different, and if you're saying that they fight petty wars then what about the war you caused yourself? I found that petty.'

Harry moaned when a flash of pain invaded his skull. He almost forgot that Voldemort had a temper that could match a girl on her period.

**You foolish child. I am entirely aware of what you are saying which is why we must be wary of them. You do not know the true cruelty of muggles because you have not lived the life I lived. Imagine what would happen if these muggles ever discover us-**

Harry guessed that Voldemort and Tom was pretty similar, and he tried to crush the small amount of recognition that they truly were one and the same so he interrupted, 'I know. I know where you're coming from. I've worked in the Auror department long enough to know how troublesome is it to deal with muggles finding out about our society the wrong way. There were so many close calls, and we had to summon storms to distribute country wide memory wiping potions. We had people working with muggle media, and the technology department, constantly filtering what comes out that seems mildly believable all just to maintain the statute of secrecy. In the future, muggles will develop technology that will allow each individual to broadcast anything they see for entire world to watch with just a press of a finger. I know the problem… I was working with MACUSA to find a solution to that, because we were at a bigger risk of being found out.'

**Complete segregation-**

'Has been considered. While your intentions may have been right, you went about it the wrong way. There was no need to murder, torture and kill innocents. It's unforgiveable. But… I don't really want to worry about that, not now.'

Harry felt annoyed that he was still in his ten-year-old body. He echoed the thoughts of his old self but he knew he was completely incapable to do anything about the burgeoning problems of the future, not when he still had hope that he could go back to it.

Voldemort had taken to feeling satisfied at the back of his mind. Perhaps he was happy that he was proven right at least in one form or manner.

His hissing voice had gone away, and Harry was trying to delude himself that Voldemort finally left him alone.

He humored him though, knowing that in the off-chance that he had a drop of pureblood in him, then he might have an inheritance waiting for him. He might find out if he had parents in this realm, not that he really wanted to meet the woman who abandoned him or the father that was mysteriously absent all his life.

He read the familiar sign engraved on familiar silver doors against the gleaming white building.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
_Of what awaits the sin of greed_  
_For those who take, but do not earn,_  
_Must pay most dearly in their turn._  
_So if you seek beneath our floors_  
_A treasure that was never yours,_  
_Thief, you have been warned, beware_  
_Of finding more than treasure there._

He stole from it once, and stole from another today. He hoped Gringotts did not have the magic to detect thieves. He couldn't remember.

Just like Leaky Cauldron, he looked out of place with his too small body with no adult next to him. If it didn't take too much magic, he would have had the muggle follow him around, pretending he was a guardian.

Something told him he should have come more prepared, but he was good at rushing head first into problems he wished to solve.

Gringotts was inlaid with marble floors with gleaming gold chandeliers. Tables taller than him were on both sides and they were lined with goblins busy attending to their customers or stamping. Paper was flying around, moving here and there. Attendants were moving back and forth. Some of them turned to look at him with knowing eyes, and a row of sharp teeth. The goblins were one of the magical creatures that held no appeal to wizards. A normal child would probably call them monsters.

The inside of the hall was bathed in golden light, and they kept the light dim in a manner that made the whole place look so much bigger than it actually was. His footsteps echoed on the marble floor. He went to a goblin that didn't seem to be entertaining anyone, and just like all the others he had a lamp beside him, a balance scale and thick parchments. His hair was white, his forehead wrinkled and upon his nose were spectacles. On his hand was a feathered quill, and his long large hands with long nails were outstretched outwards. His nails were pointed they could probably cut him up easily.

Harry swallowed some of his childish fear and let his magic swirl around and coughed to get the goblin's attention. Just like the rest of his pointy features, the goblin's pointed nose turned towards him and its beady little eyes looked at him with interest and disdain.

It was no secret that goblins hated wizards and vice versa.

Harry smiled at him and the goblin leaned forwards, making Harry hyper aware of how small he actually was because even when the Goblin was leaning out of his seat, he was still higher. They were very small creatures after all, and it made no sense for them to deal with wizards from a lower vantage point that was why they sat on high chairs but Harry still wished he was still taller.

"Yes?" Came the voice of an old adult male.

"I would like to take a lineage and inheritance test."

The goblin inspected him for a moment before wrapping both hands on the ledge of the tall polished wooden table, "That would be thirty galleons."

Harry checked his pockets and extracted the money he brought with him.

"I only have muggle money. Is this enough?"

The goblin looked at him in suspicion. He then took his scale and placed the stack on one dish before stacking galleons, sickles and knuts on the other. It was as if some special magic made it possible to weigh both when none of them were of the same weight.

It did not take long, and the goblin was finished and adjusted his glasses with a flourish.

"Your muggle money is equivalent to forty-seven galleons, seven sickles and twelve knuts. Would you like to convert the rest of your money to wizarding currency or keep the rest as muggle money?"

Harry pondered on this and decided that, "I'd like to have forty galleons… so that will leave me with ten, but have the rest in muggle pounds. I might need it later."

The goblin waved a hand, and began to write on a piece of paper. It was a small piece of rectangular note and stamped it with the Gringotts seal.

"I will speak with the other officers about your request. For now, here is your muggle money. I have exchanged it to the approximate amount which is... one twenty-five pound note, a ten pound note, a pound note, two crowns, two florins, a sixpence and a penny. Please sign here."

The goblin indicated on the solid black line and handed over his quill. Harry looked at him with furrowed eyebrows because the table was very high and there was no way he could reach it with his current height. The goblin merely snapped his fingers and a foot stool appeared out of nowhere. Harry blushed at this. He stepped on it and felt excited because he had never truly bothered exchanging muggle money for wizarding ones before. Hermione told him it was very easy  and now he shared the same sentiments.

He was also not very famous here, and the goblins didn't treat him as if he was some hero for destroying Voldemort who murdered most of them in Gringotts. It was a novelty, being treated like nobody.

Harry signed his name happily, feeling guilty about the money he stole but it was being put to good use. The Goblin took away the paper, handing him an exact replica of it. Harry left the quill on the desk and the Goblin smiled at him with his shark like teeth, "Mr. Harry Selwyn is it. Please wait right here."

Harry watched the man sign another piece of paper, bringing it with him and leaving his desk. He felt happy when he noticed he was a head taller than the Goblin who walked briskly to a separate desk that housed Goblins of a different rank. Harry blinked when he was pointed with a hand.

Soon, the Goblin who assisted him and another one with a golden badge came to greet him. "Mr. Selwyn, I hope you are not afraid of shedding a little blood."

"No, I'm not. Please make sure it heals afterwards."

"Of course. My name is Ragnok, I will be overseeing the inheritance and lineage test. Warwick is the one who assisted you. He is one of our heads. There is a private room at the back which we can use. The results of this test and all your transactions with Gringotts will be strictly confidential however it only applies to us goblins working in the bank. We promise not to collect your blood. Not a drop of it will remain in our possession once the test is done unless you already have an account or you decide to open one."

Harry nodded, and waved goodbye at Warwick who left him with Ragnok.

He was led into a dark room and light floated above in the form of several circular spotlights. It reminded him vaguely of how bright the dentist lights were when it was being shined on his face. He visited Hermione once and had a taste of what it felt like, with Hermione's parents marveling at how perfect his teeth was.

There was an obelisk in that room, and it was gleaming red.

Harry pointed at it and asked, "What is that?"

Ragnok smiled at him, "That is what makes this test possible, Mr. Selwyn. It is a blood obelisk made out of your ancestors' generous donations. It is a requirement that we take a drop of blood from anyone opening an account with Gringotts, and we have existed for several hundreds of years. If your blood has the same magic as what is in theirs, then we will know for sure."

That was disturbing knowledge, "but isn't wizarding blood precious? What if someone tries to steal it?"

"Then the blood will be rendered useless. No one has ever attempted to steal the blood obelisk before, and many of your kind consider this a precious artifact… You were not even supposed to notice it. It is quite strange that you have. Perhaps you truly are a Selwyn."

Harry shut his mouth then, and let Ragnok do the talking.

"Please sit down."

There was only one chair, and before him was a black table. On the table was a small circular hole. It was the size of a button. There was also a gold stick with a millimeter short silver needle at the tip floating directly before him.

Harry sat down, and two parchments appeared on the table as if an illusion hid them there and made them suddenly visible.

"Prick your finger with the sharp end of the golden stick, then put that finger directly above the middle of the table."

Harry did as he was told, wincing as the needle pierced through his flesh like butter. The blood kept dripping straight into the small hole, and he could see a thin line travelling towards the obelisk.

It glowed once, and Harry felt his finger heal.

Then, writing began to appear on both papers.

It was slow, and Harry wasn't sure what to expect.

It took perhaps three minutes of waiting before it was done, and Harry was glad when Griphook handed him the pieces of paper.

"These are the results of the lineage and inheritance test, Mr. Selwyn."

* * *

**Lineage Test for Harry Selwyn**

Related to the following Pureblood Families:

Peverell

Selwyn

Slytherin

Gaunt

Potter

Black

* * *

**Inheritance Test for Harry Selwyn**

**Vault 291 – The Selwyn Family Vault**

_The Selwyn family vaults can only be fully accessed once the wizard is of age._

_An allowance of 30 galleons per month is granted to minors._

_._

**Vault 687 – The Potter Family Vault**

_Access Denied_

_._

**Vault 443 – The Black Family Vault**

_Access Denied_

* * *

"What of the other vaults? And why is this… so short? I'm related to these families... how? Is there a way to find out who my mother is or my father?"

"I'm afraid this is only a basic test, Mr. Selwyn. A comprehensive test will be more expensive and it is not something you can afford. We also do not appreciate having thieves, so we will not accept money that is stolen from others. Head Goblin Warwick said you were special which is why we let this go."

Harry inhaled and held his breath, trying to figure out a way to explain his frustration then let it out.

The test was full of riddles and apparently he was in fact a true Selwyn when he just got the name from a random book that Tom was reading. It could be fate playing tricks with him, or perhaps he took the name because it was familiar to Henry.

"How much would it cost to find out the name of my parents and how I'm related to each of these families?"

Ragnok smiled, full of greed, "Three thousand Galleons for all the families involved. Upon doing this, you will obtain your family tree. You will know all your relatives, their names, and their photographs if they ever had dealings with us. This will of course grant you the name of your parents and perhaps even their whereabouts."

"So… I can't even find out without paying you if they're alive?"

Ragnok frowned at this, some form of pity showing on him, "No, Mr. Selwyn. As part of the protocol, despite whatever your situation is, we simply cannot give information away for free."

**You don't need it. We have what we came for. If you must know, the vaults of Slytherin, Peverell and Gaunt have all been exhausted. They have ceased to exist within Gringotts. Stop thinking about your missing parents when you don't need them. You were abandoned, and whatever reasons they have for it can never be justified.**

'That's easy for you to say. I… just want to know I guess. I want to meet them… what's wrong with that?'

**There is a ritual, but it would involve copious amounts of blood.**

'Blood magic. Dark Magic. I don't think so.'

**The Goblins use blood magic as well. They simply do not need rituals and sacrifices for it. We are wasting time here.  
**

'Fine. I'll let it go…'

Harry blinked and sat up.

"That's alright Mr. Ragnok. It can wait. Is there a way for me to receive the monthly allowance without having to come to Gringotts in person and will I be able to claim the allowance I've had before this?"

Ragnok opened the doors for him, "Of course there is a way to automatically recieve it. A small drawstring pouch will suffice, won't it? You can only withdraw wizarding currency however. You will always need to come to Gringotts or any Goblin bank if you must exchange your muggle money to wizarding ones. The same goes for the other way around. As for claiming the money, I'm afraid it is simply not possible. You require the opening of an account, which will take you roughly ten galleons. Again, a drop of your blood will be needed."

Harry nodded, and appreciated the ease of which he could use the cash.

In the end, he lost more money than what he gained, and another five for the drawstring pouch. Harry grinned, money comes and goes. He still had twenty five galleons for the month and more for every month he had the pouch with him. He was already prepared to come to the wizarding world like a penniless kid, but this solved some of his problems.

He just needed to hide it from Tom but he wasn't sure if it was possible. Maybe he'd fabricate a believable story.

* * *

The wizarding bookstore had titles that interested the intellectual side of him, but what he was looking for was the time travel related books.

Harry took some time skimming the rows and spotted one next to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them. " **Fantastic Tales of Wizards and Witches Who Fell Through Time by Sabrina Wilkes** "

_Is our world unique? Are there multiple pasts and multiple futures? The author does not claim to know, but this book features a collection of stories and anecdotes from those who know what it's like to fall through time._

Harry whispered a spell, that would let him read the gist of the book in a matter of minutes left him reeling. It basically told him that, those who have gone back in the past only did so for a few days, and they managed to travel back to the future with the help of a time-turner.

At the thought of the time-turner, he remembered a project that was in the making – of a true time-turner, but it was several years in the future.

Some say that having gone back to the past changed a lot of things for them like a butterfly effect, while others said nothing happened. To those who did claim nothing changed, the singular thing they did was _not do anything_. Harry thought that if you didnt consciously try to change things in the past then of course nothing would change in the future.

So it could also be said that Harry having gone back to the past was already changing a lot of things in the future because he did so many things that were out of the ordinary like befriending Tom Riddle.

Then, there were stories of how people claiming to have come from the future got stuck in time, which was like his situation. Nothing could be done for them. One even went to Hogwarts and proposed a number of alterations to the castle including the plumbing system which was used by the Basilisk in order to slither around unseen… and this was prior to the creation of the Chamber of Secrets, he guessed.

Feeling depressed, Harry searched for a new book.

**The Mind-Boggling Implications of Multiple Universes and the Use of Time-Turners** **by Anonymous**

_It was not until the late 10th century that the first instance of time travel has been recorded. Previously, it was assumed that one can only travel forwards in time and not backwards. In the late 14th century, the invention of time-turners have revolutionized the wizarding world, and ever since then, we have had countless wizards and witches use this special device, a necklace with interlocking globes, made of the finest of gold, and the sands of time. This created a positive and negative impact to the wizarding society but the troubles it brought have far outweighed its potential benefits for many misused its power. The use of the said device has been strictly regulated for educational, political and emergency purposes._

_The creation of time-turners is a closely guarded secret and it is said that the Ministry keeps track of how many is in production. Before it was regulated, the Wizarding world prospered with the second coming of the golden era but our society shortly fell into its greatest disaster which led to what muggles now refer to as the Salem Witch Trials (See page 75). This also heralded the creation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in 1689 because wizarding and muggle relations were at their worst (See page 77). Ever since the early 15th century, prosecution of the wizarding kind by their muggle counterparts have increased. Children, the weakest of the wizarding families have been the prime victims of the muggle attacks, the most common of which was being burnt to ashes. Thousands of lives were lost. It was the only recorded time that the entire Wizarding World banded together and enforced separation of Wizarding and Muggle worlds by erasing the memory of magic from every muggle mind. We have not left a trace of our history whether from muggle literature, art or film. Parts of the world have been confounded to be completely undetectable by any muggle means. Charms to repel muggles, and other similar spells have been crafted. By the year 1692, the International Confederation of Wizards have sucessfully and completely safeguarded the wizarding community by ensuring no trace of the Wizarding world remained in the muggle world._

_It was because of this international compromise that the lesser known details of the 14th century have gone unheard of. Multiple theories have been put forward by the greatest of minds. It was the time of creation, and among the many theories was the idea that we have multiple universes. This has been partially proven when a man of the name Matthias Norwick surrendered himself to the ministry. He exclaimed he came from the world where his son was dead, where his wife was an alcoholic, but he had an accident with a now defunct time-turner, causing him to land a year backwards, where he was able to save his son's life, but killed a man who looked like himself whom he thought was an imposter. This should have caused him to cease to exist, but even after killing his other self, he was still alive (See page 24). He then came to the conclusion that his son and his wife were also imposters because they acted differently from what he remembered them.  
_

_Many such stories show that individuals who have come from the future do not necessarily come back to the same past, and it has created theories of how magic creates deviations from one reality to another. That said, as you read, we will explore the probability of whether or not there is truly one universe or there are multiple universes._

Harry put the book down, feeling a headache coming along. He skimmed until he found that **_To know the secrets of creating a time-turner, one must be employed in the Department of Mysteries as an unspeakable._**

He had no time for that, he would rather stalk one unfortunate unspeakable and pour veristaserum in his or her mouth just to find out how it was created… but the process of creating one that was capable of going forwards through time when no such thing has ever been done before was laborious.

**Maladies of Time** was a book that showed him the dangers of messing with the timeline and it actively supported the idea that time travel must be outlawed and all time-turners, rituals, and runes that supported time travel must be destroyed.

**Time, Temporal and Space Explorations** showed the possibility of creating slow motion, and messed heavily with the laws governing spatial structures by creating a pocket universe that increased a wizard's ability to move, hastened the processing of thoughts creating an illusion of slower time to a degree that was only possible for the space indicated. Whether the same theory could be used to expand to the larger outside world and fast forward time without aging a person was something that had to be explored. It did say that one experiment rendered an apple to dust in a matter of seconds.

**Rituals of Divining the Future** was a mix of divination, and was rubbish.

He knew it was possible. He knew it was possible to go forwards. 'Or. I'm going about it the wrong way. I am the Master of Death… surely there must be a way for me to skip all these.'

Harry then saw a shadow next to him and looked up at someone who asked him, "Aren't you a little too young to be reading that, little boy?" Harry frowned and bit his lip, "I know… but I'm just interested…"

"Did your parents leave you here?"

Harry nodded and said, "I'm to meet them at ice-cream parlour. Mister, I am looking for a book called Hogwarts a History and if you can help me with a copy of the latest wizarding history books it would be great?"

"Hogwarts a History? I don't believe we have that book, but we might have something similar. Pray tell, why are you reading up so early lad? Not that it's bad. It's a good thing. I wish those small firsties did the same."

Harry almost blanched at the slip. He assumed Hogwarts a History already already existed. "I just like reading. That's all mister," Harry murmured and looked down. He managed to look uncomfortable and the attendant noticed this and stopped his questions.

The man led him to the second floor and picked a few books out for him.

_Wizarding World in Hiding_

_A Magical Guide for Muggleborns_

_Things, Tips and Tricks Every Witch and Wizard Must Know_

_Hogwarts as Seen Through the Years_

"Is this much, okay?"

Harry nodded, holding the books, and the man looked at him as if inspecting him, "That will be twelve galleons."

"Don't worry, I have money." Harry took out his pouch and instant recognition was on the man's face, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare. I don't see children as young as you all alone buying things. Let me help you carry that, your parents wouldn't want you exert yourself when we can do it for you. I'll even put a featherweight charm on your bag free of charge."

Harry sighed in his head and smiled pleasantly, "I'd like that. Thank you mister."

Of course the pouch was a status symbol. It was black and embroidered with the faint crest of Gringgots. Not everyone would have it. Maybe. He should ask Ragnok or Warwick of the details because he didn't intend to stand out.

"Please forget you ever met me mister," He said after handing the galleons.

After making his purchase and leaving with a bag that was light as a feather, Harry found himself starving.

Even if it drained him, he really couldn't afford people remembering him anymore. He was just being overly cautious. He thought of casting a wandless notice me not charm but it would be draining.

**A glamour would work better.**

'Right. Why didn't you suggest this earlier?'

**You simply never asked and I doubt you will be able to stand for the rest of the day when you have it on.** **I believe acquiring an enchanted object that will change your appearance is better since it will not require your magic. For now, let me do the honors.**

Harry felt his magic get drained and he swayed on his feet. He then looked at the glass windows of one shop and squinted at the freckles that suddenly dotted his face, and the slightly reddish ginger hair. He felt as if he was an awkward blend of Ron and his current face.

It was good enough. He quickly grabbed a bite in the Leaky Cauldron. He then asked the question that could have made the whole trip a lot easier at the start, 'You've read more books than I've ever done in your lifetime so tell me, is there a way to travel forward in time?'

He bit into the sandwich silently and drank from the glass of water as he waited for Voldemort to reply.

**No, Harry. There are spells that ensure you would not age, and it would seem easier to wait for the present to catch up to the future. You can simply sleep your way through it, just like with Salazar's Basilisk. With what you've read, it's also possible that the future would never be the same so in doing so, you could be sacrificing the chance of a better present for a worse future. Time is a fickle thing, and just like how the books warned, it is not to be messed with. The lesser known stories are horror stories of those who have gone insane, trying to come back to a place and reality that doesn't exist any longer.**

**Had I told you about this at the start, you would not believe me, since there is very little trust between us but that will change in time.**

Harry felt more depressed at the words and just finished eating his sandwich. 'Is there a way to separate you from me… like if you had your own body, would you leave me alone? I want my thoughts to be mine again… it bothers me a lot that you're with me all the time. It's like I have no privacy…. I can't imagine the rest of my life like this.'

**Magic makes everything possible. Of course there is a way but there is nothing that you can do at your current state.**

For a time, Harry imagined freedom without caring about the consequences of unleashing another Dark Lord. He fancied Voldemort killing Grindelwald solving on of their problems.

'What will happen… if I help you get a body?'

Harry bit into his second triangular sandwich and said, 'Forget that I asked. I really can't let you out… I have to destroy you,' Harry said half-heartedly.

**Can you really afford to destroy me? I am the only one who truly understands what you are and who you are. You are Harry Potter, my Chosen One, the Master of Death… You are a special being that is tied to me. I do not wish to harm you, not yet.**

'Why wouldn't you? I mean. I killed you, all of you. You should be trying to kill me again because that's what you've been doing all my life. You never stopped before, what's stopping you now?'

Harry chewed on the sandwich a little harsher than he intended.

'Or maybe it's because you can't do it, that's why you're not trying,' Harry taunted.

**Foolish child, I am merely humoring you. I simply wish to understand you. We had horrible childhoods, and we were blessed with the same gifts. I have struggled to split my soul to remain in the other world but here you are having effortlessly acquired immortality. You are an enigma I want to solve. I ask myself, what makes you so special that you have been destined to be my equal? What makes my other self so attracted to you when you are nothing but an enemy to both of us?**

**I want to know more about you but this curiosity is the only thing keeping me from turning you into a puppet. So. Do. Not. Test. My. Patience.**

**It is only because I am forgiving that you still have your mind so be thankful.**

Harry laughed at this, 'You need me more than I need you. Now that I know there's very little chance of getting back, then it makes it hard for me to care at all. I probably won't see them again… I won't see my family.'

**You don't mean that at all and we have not completely exhausted all sources of knowledge. Knocturn Alley, the Malfoy Libraries, the Black Libraries, Slytherin's collection, the Hogwarts Library. There will be a lot of reading and research involved...  
**

**and what of Tom?**

Harry blinked at the question.

'What about him?'

**Do you not consider Tom your family?**

Harry finished the sandwich and began leafing through the books, skimming it before answering, 'Yes. I do. He's like my older brother. It's what's making this timeline bearable. Tom is... so nice to me.'

**Are you aware you are wasting your time in trying to teach my younger self your petty morals?**

Harry expelled an annoyed breath, 'Look, if you want to argue then I'm not talking… but if you really must know, I don't think I'm wasting my time. I see potential in Tom. He cares for me… and that's a first. I never expected he'd be able to care for another person. The way Dumbledore portrayed you, you were inhuman and already incapable of feeling at the very start. I think it was wrong of him to judge you so early on… but Tom is different. I'll show you that he can change, and that he won't end up like you.'

Harry finished a book, and picked up another, flicking through the page every second, trying to squeeze in the knowledge because he was promptly going to leave them in Leaky Cauldron. He just couldn't think of a way to keep them and he did not have enough magic left to cast another spell to shrink them even with Voldemort's help.

**You're enamored with my other self, Harry. Interesting… you truly are interesting. To answer your earlier question, there is in fact a ritual that we must perform, a variation of the one I've created during your fourth year.**

'You created a ritual.'

Harry wondered in his head, deadpanned.

**It is in the least of my abilities to create one. It is in both of our interests that I find myself a body so you may acquire your privacy, and I be given a chance to finish what I've started.**

'No.'

**You don't have a choice in this. On your twelfth birthday, your body and magic will be strong enough that it will not kill you.**

Harry really wished he could kill himself at that moment. There would be one less mass murderer to worry about.

'Fine, but leave me and Tom alone. You already know what happened the last time you became Voldemort… and I will find a way to hunt you down and destroy you. I swear.'

**Don't swear on your magic when it's impossible to do so. You can never destroy me. Wherever you go, I go, Harry. I must tell you why, so that your ignorant mind can fully understand the futility of your actions. You have bonded us together in more ways than one, my precious horcux…**

**Do you know why?**

Harry felt like he didn't want to know the answer to that, not when Voldemort felt so smug. His happiness felt toxic. Voldemort was only ever happy at the expense of someone else's misery.

**Do you know when was it that you became the Master of Death?**

Harry felt memories rushing back. He acquired the cloak when he was in his first year, inherited it from his father with a note from Dumbledore saying 'use it well'. Then he inherited the ring from Dumbledore when he was on the run, trying to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. It was inside the snitch. He won the wand from Draco, escaping the Malfoy Manor. He had all three and accepted his death long back which made it possible to face death. Then, in the forest, Voldemort killed him with the very same wand. He woke up in the train station for the first time, with Voldemort's emaciated baby soul just next to him, and Albus telling him things he couldn't remember.

Voldemort's laughter was loud in his ears, in his mind, and with dawning horror, Harry couldn't breathe when he came to the same conclusion. Why would Voldemort ask for when? What did it matter when it shouldn't. What did when mean? What made now and then different? _Horcrux._

**You were my horcrux when you became the Master of Death, my precious little Harry. You have given me the most precious gift I have always craved for.**

**Immortality.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *-* Don't kill me.
> 
> Anyway, I had fun reading about some Wizarding history. _The image featured on this chapter_ and most of the information was taken from Harry Potter at wikia. There's a lot of information that I fabricated though just for the sake of spicing things up. It's an information dump chapter but I still hope you guys liked it.
> 
> **Trivia ahead** : I went back and edited a few things but I have yet to complete my research about it. Sometimes it's so difficult to find just the correct information online. I made the mistake of using gold coins - what is known as a Sovereign (although no one pointed it out which I'm happy about :D). They're pretty gold coins that is equivalent to a pound, and they've gone out of circulation within the country after WWI, although the currency was still accepted in different parts of the world for trade and it was still used in other colonies for a time... It also has real gold in it. One really old coin has been auctioned and sold at £516,000.
> 
> I also changed the term American Wizarding Government to MACUSA or the Magical Congress of the United States of America. I just realized that wizarding governments actually have different names and I should stick close to canon *-*. 
> 
> Currently I'm in the middle of writing Of Gods and Men, with a bunch of mini ficlets sprouting in my head like mushrooms. Dumbledore will be in the next chapter. Hogwarts is starting too. Let me know your thoughts!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Tom finally gets the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one. It does have a lot of Harry and Tom interaction while Voldemort takes a little bit more of a back seat. I made some minor revisions here and there (4/28/2018). Enjoy. Angst, fluff and mystery ahead.

As promised, he went to his father’s place to start looking for clues.

He saw the off white paint and the pale wooden door 24. He opened the door and saw the inside of the house - clean and devoid of anyone.

A part of him grew up there. He was lucky he had a home. From the snippets he heard while growing up, and through Martha, there was a scarcity of places to live in. After the world war, a lot of property was damaged. Tenants found it difficult to stay in their own homes and landlords forcefully evicted those who did not have enough money to pay the increasing rent.

The government tried to control it. They managed to find a semblance of order, but the lack of affordable living space and the lack of job opportunities made life all that much harder.

He knows that now, and a part of him wanted to justify that yes, his father did have a legitimate reason to feel depressed but he shouldn’t have hurt him. Not in any way.

Harry felt numb. He was too small to defend himself, and too young to understand that what his father was doing to him was wrong.

He shouldn’t be surprised they already cleaned it up and he was glad they did. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to see or feel. He came to this place on a whim. He knew that a part of him missed this home which carried a great deal of nice memories for his younger self. Majority of what he felt for that place was better off buried underneath the ground.

He did want to feel closure. He also wanted to see if his real parents ever left a clue. He wondered if after being abandoned, his father or his mother bothered to check up on him. He wondered about who they were. He could remember his mother vaguely. That was it.

He stepped inside.

His clothes were gone. His toys were gone. The drawings, the books, the picture frame, the bottles, the plates and cups, the bloodstains, the ashtray– All gone. He saw they kept the same furniture.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nothing Mr. I was just looking.”

He was shooed away and was told that it was rumored to be haunted. The previous owner died from the guillotine and no one really wanted to take it up. For the duration of his stay in Wools, no one bothered to stay there

The dust was there but it wasn’t very thick, meaning the owner still bothered to clean it occasionally.

Harry felt even worse. He felt dizzy, tired and sick. He saw the after image of his father hurling one bottle and another at his feet, the sound of glass loud in his ears.

The abuse his body suffered hadn’t completely gone away. The trauma in his mind, only mellowed down by the presence of Harry Potter’s other self’s memories.

Voldemort found his history maudlin, and Harry knew there really was no point to feel sad over something that happened over a year ago.

In his first life, he’d been surprisingly strong. Too strong that it was almost questionable if he was still normal. He grew up in an unloving household, and year after year, Voldemort caused him pain.

.

If only he could find a way to forcibly extract him from his mind. He was a parasite, an evil parasite that only continues to torment him. He hated him.

But Harry was at a loss. He didn’t know what to do except give in to his demands.

Harry recalled the conversation in Hog’s Head.

* * *

**You were my horcrux when you became the Master of Death, my precious little Harry. You have given me the most precious gift I have always craved for.**

**Immortality.**

Harry felt instant denial. He couldn't just accept what Voldemort said. It was preposterous. It was impossible. He did not want to believe it ‘You don’t know how it works. You can’t be the Master of Death just because I held a portion of your soul.’

 **How else can I exist? Your soul has been entwined with mine for years until I forcibly severed it with the killing curse but it only delayed the inevitable. You’ve never truly stopped being my horcrux. You only chose to abandon that part of me but every time you died, you rekindled that bond, enough that I began to gain awareness. That piece of me couldn’t stop searching for your soul and in doing so, it found the** _**others** _ **instead.**

Harry remembered the stunted form a flayed and mutilated baby. Albus said nothing could be done about it and he just had to leave him. ‘That can’t be. You’re lying… it doesn’t make sense…’

**You said so yourself. I am him. I am all of him. I am all the pieces of myself scattered across the limbo.**

Harry’s fingers started shaking. ‘You’re lying–‘

**Your ignorance and naivety irritates me. You’ve cursed us to an eternity together. Accept it.**

Harry felt like time stopped. ‘I’ll kill myself.’

 **You will not. You promised not to. You will keep that promise or else–**  Voldemort hissed inside his mind, all his rage carefully contorted and pain assaulted his head.

Backed into a corner once more. It was like there was no hope. He couldn’t deal with this, not when he just realized going back home was close to impossible. Voldemort and him, bound together for all eternity as Masters of Death? It was a joke. He stood up, wanting to be away from so many people whom he felt was in danger just because he was there and suddenly, his legs froze, and he sat back down. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t physically move. It’s as if his own body was not obeying him. He was so frustrated that he could feel tears.

**Yes, Harry. It’s futile. Even if you die, you will simply be reborn again and I, with you. Your threats will not achieve anything.. Even if you did not say a word, you thought about bringing me back with you. Do you remember the time when the boys in the orphanage locked you inside a cabinet? Several blows to the head, and even if our bodies are resilient, it was too much. You died and woke up with me in the limbo. I suggested that you take me back with you, and that was all it took, and my wish has been granted. You’ve always been weak against the people you cherished.**

**I wore my younger self’s skin and your concern for me was  so delightful.**

Harry could feel his heart beating loudly. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. ‘You tricked me. How dare you?’ He remembered Tom Riddle in the train station. He remembered.

_"It's alright. Harry," The boy pulled him closer._

_Arms wrapped around him and Harry thought it was comfortable._

_"You seem to know more than what I know. Do you come here often, Harry?"_

_Harry couldn't control his tongue and said, "Only when I die."_

_"...and how many times did you die?"_

_"I don't know… the curses don't seem to work on me but if I count how many times I've seen the station," Harry paused and counted in his head, "this is the seventh time."_

_The arms tightened._

_"Seven…"_

_Harry listened, but he felt no heartbeat coming from the other boy and it was strangely quiet. The sound of the station seemed muted._

_"Tom…?" Harry shivered when the other boy stroked his back._

_"You think this is a dream?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Why don't you stay here with me, Harry? It feels lonely here… waiting."_

_Harry felt something was wrong but it was all wrapped up in the haze and concern he felt for the other boy. "I don't know if I can. I have to go back, Tom."_

_"Then, take me with you?"_

_"I don't know if it's possible."_

_"It is."_

How could he forget. The memories… Voldemort had access to his memories. ‘You erased my memories. What else did you do to me?’

**Nothing else that you don’t already know of. I know all about you. I lived your life. I know all the darkest secrets you hold. I could see through your eyes. I feel you. All your thoughts belong to me. Your mind. Your soul.**

‘No. Stop. I’m not yours. I don’t belong to anyone but myself. Stop telling me lies. I don’t want to hear them.’

**You can deny it, but you know what you are, Harry Potter. We’d get along better if you stopped resisting me and because you’re such a good little boy, I’ll speak the truth.**

Harry still couldn’t move, and he wanted to main the voice to the extent that he couldn’t hear it. He was shouting in his mind for Voldemort to “SHUT UP!”

**.**

**.**

**.**

**I know that you’re lying to yourself. You do not desire to be back in the future. No. Not at all. You are simply chasing after it because you’ve grown so used to doing what you think is _right_ instead of doing what you actually want.**

**Do you remember what Dumbledore said?**

Harry saw it in his mind, and heard his voice. Voldemort fed him the memory…

_“It will never do anything for you that you do not want.”_

**As much as I wanted to be here, it would not have worked if you did not want it yourself.**

Voldemort’s words were poison, and Harry wanted to disappear.

**You wanted this to happen.**

* * *

It was hard dealing with everything. ~~_Of remembering his muggle father, thoughts of how his real parents from this world didn’t want him, the knowledge that the children in the orphanage managed to kill him, Voldemort’s revelation that they were tied together as the Masters of Death and the fact that it was almost impossible to go back to his own time or that he himself didn't want to._~~ He felt as if everything came crashing down, and he felt horrified of his own skin. He couldn’t attempt to kill himself because he didn’t know if there was a way to stop Voldemort from possessing his body and wreaking havoc while he was trapped in his own mind.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he ceased to amuse the dark lord, he could be easily used and discarded. He noticed how easy it was for Voldemort to cut him off from his own body. He was like a puppet on strings.

The glamour had long faded and he exhausted himself too much. He was tired of fighting. Why did he fight so hard anyway?

It hurt his head.

It hurt to breathe. It was as if something was lodged in his throat.

It hurt. _It hurt._ It hurts.

Harry soon found himself in front of the orphanage gates, wandering, completely out of his head and he was almost ready to collapse when he felt arms around him.

“Tom?”, he said weakly. He noticed where he was, and saw they were in the middle of a corridor, a rather familiar one.

How did he even get there?

“Harry… what happened? Why are you crying?”

Harry couldn’t speak.

He wanted to blurt everything out. He wanted to tell Tom all the secrets just so that Tom could share his pain, but wondered if Tom would even by sympathetic, because of what Harry did to his other self.

Maybe Tom would even hate him for keeping things from him.

There was a hand pushing aside his hair, feeling his temperature and Tom hissed in frustration.

“You have a fever. Again. Come. Let’s get you to bed.”

Harry felt his knees collapse and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the other children looking at them. With one sharp look from Tom, they all scurried away.

He tried standing up but he felt dizzy. The whole world kept spinning. Every time he attempted to right himself, he felt the world tilt on its own axis, or was that because he kept falling? It took a lot of effort to hold on to Tom, who decided that he couldn’t even stand and lifted him up into his arms as if he hardly weighed a thing.

The sudden movement made Harry close his eyes and he almost felt like puking.

Luckily, they didn’t have to climb stairs or move very far away and before long, they were already in the same room Harry vacated that morning.

Tom placed him on the bed. Harry pressed his head against the pillow, groaning and trying to prevent himself from throwing up.

“Stay there. Your fever is too high. I’ll call Martha.”

Harry shook his head, “nggh.. not Martha. Don’t call her.”

He feared having her remember. He knew he’d get better eventually. He was just exhausted from the day and overuse of his magic. Harry took Tom’s hand and said, “I just need to rest.”

“Harry, you’re testing my patience.”

Harry shook his head, and said, “please don’t call her Tom. I don’t want her to worry.”

“Fine. But I still need to lower your temperature.”

Tom leaned over him. Tom plucked off his glasses and started unbuttoning his jacket, then his shirt. Tom untied the string of his pants, took off his shoes, and pulled away the socks. Harry realized belatedly that Tom was undressing him.

Everything felt so blurry without his glasses on. He couldn’t see the expression on Tom’s face.

“Raise your hands so I can take them off.”

Harry weakly obeyed.

Then, Tom climbed on the bed to pull his pants off. Although he knew that Tom probably had a lot of experience in doing this, it felt different when he was being undressed while he was conscious.

Soon he was naked in bed. Tom covered him with the thin blanket. He shivered as Tom left him there and started checking out their cabinet for clothes.

When Tom found the gray night clothes, he placed them on the bed. The other boy sat next to him, and pulled the blanket away saying, “I’m going to touch you. Just bear with it.”

Harry had no time to protest when Tom’s hands began touching him, magic cooling him down significantly. He felt it easing through his skin, slowly and steadily.

It felt vaguely like a cooling charm, although Tom’s magic felt as if it was healing him from within.

Tom only touched portions of his body. His forehead, his neck, his arm, elbow, hands, chest, torso, hips, legs, feet.

“You don’t really have to do this… Tom.”

Harry felt as if Tom was already doing too much. It was nice knowing that at least someone was still concerned about his well-being and his health but he didn't want to be such a burden.

Tom snapped. “How many times do I have to say I want to? I promised to take care of you so stop talking and rest.” Tom was definitely mad at him.

Harry knew he would be. He closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

* * *

When he came to, there was a wet towel on his forehead, and Tom was sitting beside him, reading a letter.

“T-That’s mine,” Harry panicked. He tried sitting up and Tom slowly helped him up. Tom took awy the wet towel, and flicked a lazy hand for it to land on a basin.

"Drink."

Harry knew they've gone through this before and did not waste time driking from the offered glass.

Tom waited for him to finish drinking before saying, “I know it’s yours but what exactly is it?” Tom began waving the letter. Harry placed the glass on the small table between the two of their beds.

“I’ll tell you… just give it back,” Harry reached for it, and Tom’s eyes narrowed. His magic pulsed in anger.

“You never told me why you had to leave today. I found a number of strange things from your clothes.”

Tom raised a hand and the Gringotts pouch floated to view, the Gringotts letter, the cash he stole from that man.

“I can explain,” Harry said, trying to remain calm.

“You will and don’t you dare lie to me. I will know,” Tom said in such a frosty voice, Harry felt a small stab at his heart.

Harry summoned his glasses and placed it on.

Harry felt the force of Tom’s will, and he trembled, holding onto the threadbare blanket. He began, “It’s all very simple Tom. I’m a wizard, Tom. You are too.”

Harry felt Voldemort stir in his head, a warning.

“Tell me more.”

Tom flung the floating pieces away so that it landed back on the table with a painful clunk.

Harry flinched at the sound. Tom grabbed his hand, and stared at him. Cold blue eyes narrowed, an icy tempest and suddenly, Tom's face changed, looking kind.

“Harry, you know I won’t hurt you. There’s no need to look so scared.”

But Harry was scared. Tom might fool others but he knows how to read the other boy now. He was still mad at him.

He could feel the Tom trying to delve inside his mind, and it hammered against his weak shields. Tom was never so violent before. He closed his eyes but Tom’s magic lashed out until a crack appeared on the window.

Harry hastily began, “I always knew we were special. Wizards are real Tom. T-There are more of us in the world, hidden. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.” Harry looked away, and trembled at the sudden cold.

Then he felt Voldemort intervene, feeding him suggestions, so he would stray from telling Tom _everything_ as he was being coaxed to do. “I received a letter from Gringotts. It’s a Wizard’s bank. They told me to visit them for my inheritance.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? You _lied_ to me.” Tom said, sounding hurt.

“I didn’t want you to worry. It could have been an elaborate prank and you’ve already done so much for me so if it was, and it was dangerous, then at least you won’t be involved,” Harry said. The lies and the truth was blending together almost seamlessly. “I’ve learned that wizards want to stay hidden from those who don’t have magic. I received the letter recently and it took a lot of courage to convince myself to go. I promised you I’d tell you eventually. I promised I’d tell you everything. Now I am... just hear me out.”

A memory of an owl carrying a letter sitting beside their windowsill while Tom was asleep entered his mind. It was so vivid and he could feel the monster’s amusement in his head.

Tom probably saw this, and the force trying to enter his mind relented.

At Tom's continued silence, Harry said, "They told me that my parents might have left me a sum of money that I could use which was uncollected for years. I wanted to know who my parents are. I wanted to find them, so I followed what the Gringotts letter said. When I went there, I found out that my true family name is in fact Selwyn and I think my parents or at least one of them is magical. I also didn’t lie about visiting… that man’s place. They took away all my things, and there’s nothing there. There are no clues about where my parents are... And as for the money, I had to steal from someone to go there. I had to. I used magic so Martha wouldn’t worry about me. The pouch is from Gringotts. They gave it to me so I can receive my monthly allowance without needing to go to the bank.”

Harry then saw Tom stare at the pouch in envy and Harry told him earnestly, “I’ll share the money with you. I don’t need it. We can go there together, if you like.”

“Where is there, Harry?”

“Diagon Alley. It’s a place where Wizards can shop for magical things. There’s a pub here in London that connects to it. You’ll only get through if you’re magical. Those who don’t have magic won’t see it. Once you go through the pub, you’ll find yourself in Diagon Alley and that's where Gringotts is.”

“This is a lot to take in. Are you sure you’re not making this up?”

Harry felt frustrated at Tom but recalled the memory of Dumbledore’s first visit to and realized Tom always had such a distrustful nature and this was tame in comparison, “I’m not making this up. We can go there tomorrow and I’ll show you the Wizarding world is real.”

Tom sighed and in wonder, began tracing the back of Harry's hand with his thumb. "So that's what we are then... Magic is real. I knew we were special."

Tom turned to look at Harry, and Harry could see the visible look of disappointment.

“I believe you, but it’s difficult not knowing anything. You see, you’ve been hiding so many things from me. You don’t want to talk about _Ginny_. You don’t want to talk about your _friends_. You’ve been having nightmares that you can’t even tell me about. You avoid everything that could possibly hurt you. Then all of a sudden, you leave. I wouldn’t normally let you leave but you _made_ me. You used the same power you told me not to use on you. You told me that using it was wrong. I was worried. I thought you would never come back.”

At this, Tom looked angry, and the hand holding his tightened. “Then this afternon, you did come back but you looked so weak, I thought you were about to die. Again, after all that I did. It would have been easier if you brought me with you.”

‘ _I can never die.’_

Voldemort’s presence seemed to have retreated.

“You were crying too.”

Tom looked as if he was struggling to say something but words wouldn't come up. He looked so frustrated but Harry didn’t want to remember about those feelings. Whatever they were ate him up and gave him a breakdown. He knew he was just trying to run away from them. He felt so small. He just wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and let the ground swallow him whole.

“I just. Felt abandoned. It hurt,” Harry muttered, and at this, he pulled his legs close to him and hid his on his knees.

“You looked as if you were breaking apart and I wanted to know who hurt you. Of all the idiotic things to do, you even visited your previous house and look where it got you.”

It felt so ironic that Tom Riddle was asking him such questions and berating him for hurting himself when his counterpart, the real culrpit was inside his head, threatening to possess his body if he ever stepped out of line. At the thought of Voldemort, Harry felt dirty again.

“No one… no one. It’s just me. No one else hurt me," Harry looked up at Tom, and tried not to cry.

_Denial._

Tom sighed and demanded, "Come here."

Tom carefully, he coaxed the Harry towards him. Harry followed the compulsion until he was straddling Tom, and his head was pressed against the other boy’s chest. Tom wrapped Harry in his arms and gently kissed the top of his head.

Their bond sprang to life, and hummed as contentment was fed both ways.

“I’ll never let you out of my sight again.”

It was a threat. A promise. Safety. All rolled in one.

“But Tom. I came back safe. I wasn’t hurt,” Harry tried to protest.

“You had a fever. You were crying. You fainted. There is no second chance. I don’t trust you anymore. You could have avoided all this if you simply talked to me.”

To Harry that hurt more. He didn’t know why but he felt like he lost something important. He wanted Tom to trust him. He didn’t want Tom to doubt him but he knew he deserved this. He still didn't want it.

“No… I‘m sorry Tom. Please don’t say that.” Harry could feel his breath coming in fast, as he looked up at Tom who began wiping his cheeks with his fingers.

_'When did I'-_

Harry felt hands on his hair, combing it. “It doesn't mean I'll stop caring for you. I just don't want you to get hurt by doings things on your own. I know what it feels like to feel abandoned. All the children in the orphanage feel the same. Most of us don’t want to be here. We don’t have homes to come back to. We’re all hoping that one day, someone would take pity, or our real parents would come take us away. I thought you already knew that, but maybe I was wrong."

"What's wrong about wanting to be found? What's wrong about missing your family?" Harry asked. What's wrong if he wanted to see Ginny, his family, and his friends even just one more time?

"I'm not saying it's wrong. In the future, when we're able to, we can even look for your real parents. I want to know who my parents are too. I've always wanted to. I have so many questions I want answered... but right now this is our home. We only have each other. Isn't that enough?”

Harry fell silent at this and replied weakly, "It is."

“Good.”

Harry melted against Tom and gave in to the child in him that just wanted to feel comfort.

* * *

“It seems my younger self is more perceptive than I imagined he would be,” Voldemort said, wearing his fifteen-year old form.

Little Harry was trapped in his embrace, unable to push him away. His mind had always been stronger than Harry’s, and it was so easy to manipulate him even without using the full force of his will.

“I hate you!” Spat the child.

Voldemort grinned, stretching his face into a too wide smile. “Haven’t we already established that, my dear little Harry? I still wonder what you seek to accomplish, allowing _Tom_ to get so close to you. Do you think he’ll ever let you go? He already treats you like his most precious treasure. It is terribly entertaining to watch… and yet he has no idea that _I_ already have you. You are after all, completely and entirely mine.”

“I’m not yours. Don’t talk about me like I’m some possession. I’ll never be yours. You’re just here because of some fluke. I still don't believe you.”

“ _No. I’m here because you want me to be here._ The bond you share with my younger self is weaker than the bond you share with me. You are my horcrux."

Harry twisted in his embrace, but Voldemort's eyes flashed bright red, and cruelly said, "Let’s see what it feels like when _I,_ Lord Voldemort, _welcome you with open arms._ ”

Harry felt it then, the alien warmth seeping into his every pore. The safety, the comfort encompassed with a feeling of yearning that a part of him that melded with his very being, sang to be reunited with _Voldemort_. “No. No.. I don’t want… you. I don’t want this…”

Voldemort laughed, kissing Harry’s forehead, a mockery of what Tom just did.

Harry began to relax on the hold, and eventually all the fight evaporated in him. He held on to Voldemort, entirely too dazed and compliant. He thought he could stay there forever. He gazed up at him, adoringly.

And then, Voldemort cut feeling off, and Harry pushed himself away, utterly horrified.

* * *

Voldemort had gone quiet and the past few weeks, his voice was barely heard.

It was as if the parasite had taken to staying out of the limelight.

Harry entertained the thought that maybe Voldemort was guilty for giving him so much grief, but perhaps it was something else.

The last dream he shared with Voldemort brought forth a thought that he’d always been worried about. What part of his attachment to Tom was real and what part was fabricated by the bond?

He knew he cared about Tom, and Tom cared for him, but he didn’t want it to happen just because they were pulled together by _Voldemort’s_ soul.

Tom told him he needed to get better before they ventured out and they also had to wait for the week of classes to end before they asked for permission to go outside and visit the _Library_.

Between the two of them, Tom was the more accomplished liar so it was easy enough to convince Martha that they were going out and coming back on time without using magic.

Instead of taking the cab, they walked hand in hand.

Harry still felt anxious, and blabbered on about how he knew Tom would like Diagon Alley because the first time he went there, he was amazed at al the shops too.

Tom was visibly excited, but managed to look dignified in doing so. They bought books that they could read in passing. They bought good food, and good gifts. In general, they splurged whatever little money Harry had during the first few months.

Harry bought a permanent muggle repellant sticker that was plastered all over their room so no one ever bothered going inside theirs. They replaced their mattress with a softer one, a fluffier pillow and thicker covers. Harry got him and Tom clothes.

They mostly trained their magic with spells and very soon, as the months passed, and Tom devoured whatever knowledge that was offered with him in a pace that really reminded him of Hermione.

At the back of his mind, he knew that Tom had grown more watchful - overprotective and that was all because he had an emotional breakdown. He hoped Tom would grow out of it eventually. Harry thought to himself that he was capable of taking care of himself.

Soon, the long wait was over. An owl sat, knocking at their window.

The the letters arrived.

One for Tom Marvolo Riddle and the other for Harry Selwyn.

* * *

 

 

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Armando Dippet

( _Order of Merlin, Second Class, Grand Sorcerer_

_and Runemaster)_

 

Dear Mr. Selwyn,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

 

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Deputy Headmaster

 

* * *

 

 

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY**

 

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
  2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
  4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)



 

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

 

COURSE BOOKS

 

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 

 Basic Spells and Charms

        by Miranda Goshawk

 

A History of the Wizarding World

        by Emilia Bagshot

 

Magical Theory

        by Adalbert Waffling

 

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

        by Emeric Switch

 

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

        by Phyllida Spore

 

Magical Drafts and Potions

        by Arsenius Jigger

 

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

        by Newt Scamander

 

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

        by Quentin Trimble

 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

        1 wand

        1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

        1 set glass or crystal phials

        1 telescope

        1 set brass scales

 

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

 

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

 

Yours sincerely,

  
Kathleen Burke

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

* * *

With the letter, Harry knew he was moving into another chapter of his life. He managed to delay his search long enough but he hoped the Hogwarts library had enough books to sort out his dilenma about time and being the master of death.

“Which house do you think we’ll be in?” Tom asked.

“You’ll definitely be in Slytherin. I think I'll be fit in any of the four houses... Maybe Gryffindor.”

“It would be nice if we’re in the same house.”

It was an indirect request, not that Tom knew he could actually influence the sorting hat's decision.

Harry had his feet up in the air, lying down on the grass on his stomach, with his face resting on his arms. He was watching the rest of the children in the orphanage play around. There was nothing special about the scene. They were back at their favorite spot by the tree, with Tom beside him and a fluffy white cat which was Tom’s current victim.

For all intents and purposes the other boy seemed to be genuinely playing with the cat, but flexed his magic the moment the cat seemed less than docile.

The idea that Tom would one day be able to do the same to his followers gave him shivers.

Soon, Tom set the cat onto him, and for some reason, Tom looked genuinely amused when the cat crawled on his back and settled there to sleep.

“I can’t help where I’m sorted,” Harry mumbled.

"You should find a way to make it into Slytherin, Harry."

"You're not being very subtle. I think this is because you'll miss me if I get sorted in a different house."

Tom smiled at this, and laid down beside Harry, plucking the boy’s glasses away.

“Hey… I can’t see.”

Harry pouted.

“I miss seeing your eyes without glasses. You look better without them. We should get you a potion that corrects your eyesight,” Tom murmured, and he placed the glasses back.

“Is there such a thing?” Harry squinted as his vision adjusted. He knew about it but Harry wasn't sure if it already existed.

“Yes. I’ve read about it.”

The typical Hermione-esque response.

“Okay. I’m already used to wearing glasses though,” Harry said.

Tom laid on his back, looking up at the clouds, and through the canopy of trees around them.

The older boy pondered out loud, frowning, “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that they don’t tell children about magic sooner?”

Harry understood where Tom was coming from. It was at that point when the cat began stretching.

"Do you think we can sneak Sif in?"

"Already looking for trouble, Harry? The list said a cat, a toad or an owl," Tom pointed out blandly.

"But it doesn't say anything about not being allowed to bring one. I'm just worried about Sif. We'll need an owl for sending letters... I don't think toads are very useful except for potion making," Harry thought out loud.

'And creating basilisks', Harry privately added in his head.

* * *

“-You have only one place to visit today, but you’ll be seeing two children.”

"Twins?"

"No, strangely enough, they appear to be orphans. Muggleborn children most probably, but I could be wrong."

Armando Dippet adjusted his glasses, looking at the two names on his roster.

“They also share the same room,” Armando narrowed his eyes, smiled and handed Albus Dumbledore the two cards.

“Mr. Selwyn and Mr. Riddle is it,” Albus read out loud.

“They don’t belong to any wizarding family that I know of... but I sent the letters to them a few days ago just to see how they would react. To my surprise, they sent the the letters back within a day, both of them accepting the invitation to Hogwarts. Let me know what you think especially about that Selwyn boy.”

“Is it because of his name? This is a breach of protocol, Armando.” Albus warned.

“It is not a breach when they already know about magic."

"They know?" Albus asked, his eyes alight in curiosity.

"I have my sources."

"This is highly unusual. Is this perhaps the reason why you've given me this task?"

"Partly yes, but if I'm wrong then you are merely fulfilling your duties Albus. Do you remember the incident seven years ago?” Armando Dippet took a sip of tea.

“I remember it quite well. The only heir of the family disappeared without a trace.”

“The boy might not even be related to them but if he is, then I’m sure the purebloods will rejoice and relay the good news to their families.”

The stone gargoyle began to move from the outside, and a knock was soon heard.

“Enter.”

Inside came one other professor, one who had a wooden stump for a leg, and another wooden stump for a hand. Professor Silvanus Kettleburn was late by an hour, but Armando always thought the man was too enamored with his creatures to notice the time. The punishment can wait if the same behavior remained when the children were at school.

“Ah Silvanus, late again.” Armando put a hand on his forehead and the man had a guilty smile.

“Ashwinders tend to get nasty when they’re not fed. Had to make sure they get their fill before I leave for the day,” Silvanus smiled cheerily at this.

“Yes. Spare me your usual excuses.” Armando tossed two cards and watched as Silvanus catched them easily with a wave of his wand.

Armando continued “Today, you’ll be visiting the young Malfoy heir, and one little lady, Ms. Pomfrey. I trust you’ll make it back in one piece and that the creatures of the castle have all been taken cared of.”

Silvanus nodded, his silver hair in riotous curls bobbing up and down.

“Course, headmaster. I’ll visit them at once. All the creatures are happy and fed. I’ve locked up all those that need to be locked. You’ve got nothing ter worry about. I’ll go now. See you later.”

Despite his waddling, the silver haired man was able to depart quickly.

“I shall take my leave as well. I’ll see you in the evening, Armando,” Albus said.

Albus pocketed the two cards and left the headmaster’s room.

* * *

Days passed, and in the privacy of their room, Harry was eating another cake that was prepared by Martha.

“Do you think we’ll get sick too? A lot of the other children are getting sick lately.”

Harry pondered about the recent onset of the chicken pox. Already, four children were infected, unable to leave a small curtained portion of the clinic.

“Wizards typically don’t get infected by muggle illnesses. You know that Tom.”

“What about you? You’re so frail, Harry. I really wonder if we’re supposed to be eating Martha’s cake,” Tom mentioned. “She’s the one taking care of them.” Tom just stated his obvious distaste.

Harry frowned and argued, “Give it a rest, Tom. You still can’t be bitter about Martha. Her cake is delicious… and I don’t think you should skip on the cake. You’ll make me sad. Please. Just one bite.”

“I suppose, we’ll get sick together,” Tom said in all mock seriousness.

“Maybe. Martha’s only trying her best to help the other children just like she did with me. Can’t you at least be thankful that Martha’s so kind and I won’t be here without her?”

Harry smiled at him and sliced a very small portion of the cake, “Now, ahh." He held it out to Tom who opened his mouth with a roll of his eyes.

**This disgusting show of affection is beginning to give me cavities.**

‘Shut up.’ Harry hissed in his head.

“It’s good,” Tom admitted after chewing. “Let me have some more.” Tom stole his plate and Harry protested, “Hey that’s mine. I got you your own.”

“Doesn’t matter. We can share,” Tom said cheekily.

Harry pouted.

A knock was on their door when there shouldn’t have been one.

It was a small detail on Harry’s part that he forgot. It was also during his birthday that Hagrid visited him. When it opened, Mrs. Cole and Albus Dumbledore stood at the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D I finally realized that juggling between different stories is a difficult thing to do. @_@ I did a research on underwear again and I learned that pants originated from the word pantaloons. I also did some research about cooling fever down and sometimes, they'd give them baths or begin wiping body with water or alcohol. It had to be done slowly and the water can't be too cold... and then I remembered Tom has magic and I did mention in the first chapter he has healing powers, hence the scene.
> 
> I changed a few things for the invitation letter to Hogwarts and fabricated some titles. Also, I made another mistake .-. one that porini kindly pointed out :D I used the founder of Turkey's signature and last name for Kathleen so I now changed it to Kathleen Burke - pureblood last name and created my own signature for her (feels safer than taking something from the net) @_@. I'm sorry for anyone else who noticed *-* I'll be more careful next time.
> 
> I don't know if any of you believe Voldemort. Master liar at work. He could be telling the truth though.
> 
> Completely unrelated. I'd like to promote [Aurora](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNjHgaLpdy1IMNK57pYiKiQ). She is an inspiration for some of my chapters. I'm in love with her new song Queendom. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left me comments. I try my best to reply to them :3 Let me know your thoughts on this chapter ^_^.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus visits the children and explains how the Wizarding World works. Then Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised to get this ready by the end of the week so here’s another chapter to those who have patiently waited :D Again, freshly written and not yet checked for errors. I will polish and go over it once I find time. ~~I’m currently addicted to playing fortnite with zombies and building nice bases… and I’m trying my best not to be addicted to it~~ T.T.
> 
> Feel free to comment down below. I really do appreciate all the lovely comments, good and bad. Thanks to all those who sent kudos! We’re well over past a thousand now. It makes me happy knowing that you guys are reading this and enjoying it!
> 
> That aside, here’s the eleventh chapter :D For Harry’s eleventh birthday (in this story) ^_^ The chapter is told in varying points of views (I usually try to stick to one). I hope it doesn't make reading it very difficult.

The purest of blood.

Not all families can claim the same, and among the purebloods, there are few who kept their lines devoid of any taint. An anonymous publication stated that in the British Pureblood society, there are only 28 notably pure lines. They were aptly named the Sacred Twenty-Eight. These families do not have one speck of muggle blood in their veins, only allowing marriage between fellow purebloods across the years. One even had a silly family motto of “Toujours Pur” which roughly translated to always pure.

Albus Dumbledore silently noted that not much has been heard of the Fawley, Gaunt, Selwyn and Shafiq lines. It has been said that the last of the Gaunt family members have been imprisoned. The once prestigious line squandered their family fortune, and with no fortune or properties, even if they were descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, they became an embarrassment, long forgotten. The Fawley, and Shafiq lines are dead, or in hiding. The Selwyn family disappeared for seven years, but now there is a possible heir. If Harry Selwyn was the heir to the family, many would fight for his hand for the properties that the boy was sure to inherit and for his pureblood status.

It made him curious if he could solve the mystery of the family’s disappearance. As intriguing as it was, the global wizarding war was still simmering and because of it, he hardly had time for such matters.

* * *

It was raining when he arrived. The Wool’s Orphanage painted a grim picture against the gray sky. He had with him an umbrella and a coat just to keep the pretense up. Soon, he found himself before the large steel gate. He could see rust at the hinges at it swayed against the wind, creaking.

Perhaps the orphanage was not well funded. It was a square building with high railings. Well, one must be careful to keep the kids inside and protect them from harm, but it reminded him strangely of a cage. He took one more look and thought to himself that it was rather run down, quite old if he must say.

He went inside, opening the large metal gate, knocked on the front door and waited. Looking up, he thought it felt like a ghost house, haunted, with no one in sight. But of course, he knew they were there, and he figured no one would be happy to play outside when the clouds were angry, and the wind was lifting litters of paper and leaf all around.

Then, he saw three faces peering down at him. He gave them a wave, and they all hid. Albus didn’t know what to think about that. Were they scared of him, or were they shy?

No one answered the door, and he thought it was getting rather cold outside so he let himself in. He put his umbrella down by the small steps behind the door, and resisted the urge to use magic to dry them together with his clothes. Inside, he saw polished wooden floor, and a clean well maintained corridor. A skinny blonde woman came down. She looked tired and a little distressed.

“We’re not expecting visitors. Who might you be?”

Dumbledore took a letter from the pocket of his rain coat and soon took them off. He carefully folded his coat and draped it over one arm. He then handed the letter over to her, and said “My name is Albus Dumbledore. You may call me Albus.”

She took the letter and Albus held his hand, with the muggle gesture of a handshake.

She shook his hand, bewildered, and introduced herself, “Mrs. Cole.”

The handshake done, Albus began explaining, “I sent a letter informing the orphanage of my visit. I am here to see Mr. Harry Selwyn and Mr. Tom Riddle. Correct me if I’m wrong but I’ve been told they both stay here.”

“Yes, we do have them here.”

Shrewd eyes looked him up and down, and the woman began opening the letter. Whatever she saw in him made her hesitate and appear guarded. Albus thought it was the sight of his inner clothes.  He wore the most fashionable muggle suit he could find complete with a tie and clipped to it was his silver monocle. Perhaps it was because of the wizarding stole he wore around his shoulders. It had a pattern of golden chrysanthemums against dark violet. He thought it would pass as a stylish scarf.

It was not a long letter, but the lady took her time.

She was about to say something when she looked up and stared at him in the eye.

Her eyes widened, and the woman gasped as if remembering something, “Ah yes, I remember now. I must admit that there’s been some confusion regarding your letter Mr. Dumbledore. In all the years Tom’s been here he’s never once had a family visitor. I’d like to say the same for Harry, although we only acquired him recently. Are you here to adopt the two of them?”

“No, I’m merely here to meet them. I am a professor at a school in Scotland. The two of them received an invitation and they have accepted,” Albus said, while maintaining eye contact. He wanted her to believe the words he said, and not doubt him.

It was easy enough to manipulate the mind of a muggle.

“Scotland? That’s quite far… I’m afraid we won’t be able to pay for it,” Mrs. Cole said, distractedly.

“Money is no problem. We will provide everything for them. You should not worry about that.”

“Very well. Follow me.” Mrs. Cole lead the way, and they began crossing the long corridor towards the stairs.

“Can you tell me more about the two boys?” Albus prodded.

Mrs. Cole tucked her hair and her eyebrows crinkled in worry. “Let’s start with Harry. The boy has gone through a lot. From what I’ve heard from Martha, he was abandoned by his mother when he was small, and he was adopted by a man who treated him well at first but turned into an alcoholic. That man abused Harry, and almost killed him. Martha found him freezing in the streets of London and we nursed him back to health. He’s Tom’s closest friend. The only one, really. He’s very shy around other children and doesn’t seem to like adults.”

“Go on.”

“I knew the other children were bullying Harry but they’re afraid of Tom. He’s a sweet child. Tom on the other hand…” Here, Mrs. Cole stopped on the hallway and looked at him seriously, “I must warn you. There have been incidents with the other children. Nasty things. We could never prove it was him. The children have all shared with me their grievances. The rest of the adults say he’s an angel. I don’t know who to believe. He grew up friendless, but ever since we’ve had Harry, he’s gotten attached. It’s good that they found each other, but sometimes I still worry.”

A quick look in her mind made him see images of a girl with long hair, who was seen crying when it was suddenly cut short, a boy with half of his face singed, a rabbit who hung itself from the rafters, a boy who broke his leg from a fall when no one pushed him... Albus then saw Harry, a child covered in bandages all over, barely breathing on the verge of death.

They began walking and after some time, the woman stopped and seemed lost.

“This is strange. I can’t seem to find their room. We’re on the second floor.”

They were standing near a door that the woman could not seem to focus on.

“What number does the door have?”

“27. They stay in room number 27,” Mrs. Cole said worriedly.

“We’re standing right in front of it,” Albus noted. The number 27 was prominent on the door.

“Oh dear. Please forgive me for being so distracted.”

Mrs. Cole knocked and opened the door, “Harry, Tom. You have a visitor.”

 

The boys were sitting close to each other eating a chocolate cake. They looked quite embarrassed to have been caught fighting over a plate and they lowered the plate by the bedside.

The room was small, and tight. Two beds were on opposite sides of the wall. Squished in between the two beds was a small table that had a small drawer. Beneath their beds were their meager possessions. Near the occupied bed was a cabinet and opposite that was a study table.

“This is Mr. Albus Dumbledore.”

Albus tipped an imaginary hat, “I hope both of you are doing well.”

Mrs. Cole turned to him and said, “I’ll leave you with them now. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

* * *

Harry felt nervous. He unconsciously held Tom’s hand.

“May I?” Albus asked, as he motioned for the opposite bed.

Tom answered for both of them, “Go ahead.”

Harry broke out of his reverie and smiled at the man. His hair was shorter than what he was used to, and his face was more youthful. Less lines, and less grandfatherly looking. “Would you like some cake?”

“Thank you. I have a bit of a sweet tooth you see. Is there a special occasion?” Harry grinned and said ,”It’s my birthday!” He passed the plate that he reserved for Tom, to the older man. Dumbledore accepted it with a smile and set it on his lap.

“Happy eleventh birthday then!”

With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore summoned sparkles and mini fireworks that lit up the entire room. Harry ooohed, and clapped.

 “I’m sorry I did not bring any presents, but perhaps a lemon drop will do?”

Harry accepted the offered treat and Tom shook his head politely.

“Now, can you tell me your names?” Albus asked.

“I’m Tom Riddle.”

“Harry Selwyn.”

“You’re the deputy headmaster of Hogwarts aren’t you? We saw your name on the letter,” Tom stated.

“That I am. Both of you have been invited and you’ve accepted. That is why I'm here. I’m a professor there. I teach a certain branch of magic that transforms one object into another. Like this,” Dumbledore took a strand of white hair, and transformed it into a needle. “Can someone tell me how you’ve come upon the knowledge of the Wizarding world? You don’t seem at all surprised to see me.”

Dumbledore took his first bite of the cake and jovially said, “and I must say this cake is fantastic.”

“I told you it’s good,” Harry murmured and Tom took one bite himself. “I never said it’s bad.”

Harry stared at his cake glumly then turned to Albus who was expectantly waiting.

Harry began, “I received a letter asking me to visit the bank for my inheritance… That was a few months ago? Tom and I are both magical so I shared whatever I learned and whatever I had with him. As for why we know you, you signed the letter and you’re also very famous, professor.”

“We’ve read about you in a couple of books.” Tom shared, who seemed to take pity at Harry and offered him the remaining cake.

Dumbledore nodded, accepting the story at face value.

“Perhaps this is why you have muggle repelling sticker charms in this room? We call people who have no magic muggles. That aside, the stickers are not toys. Mrs. Cole had a very difficult time pointing me to your room.”

Harry internally winced at this. Tom looked at him then at Albus, “We needed to make sure no one would enter the room and look at our stuff. If we could leave, we would have, but we don’t have enough money to do that. We don’t know anyone else… who’d take us both. There are nosy children and nosy adults around. If any of them happen to see what's inside this room, they’ll think Harry and I have gone mad,” Tom explained.

“Yes professor. We didn’t mean any harm. I came up with the idea. I thought it was an easy way to keep people from finding out…” Harry tried to reason with him.

Albus softened and said, “That does make sense. Even I would do the same. A team from the ministry will soon come to make sure the staff is aware that both of you are not to be disturbed in this room. This will make things easier in the long run.”

Albus Dumbledore took another bite of the cake and continued, “It is good that you took precautions of keeping this a secret. The Wizarding World is perhaps the biggest secret that’s been kept from muggles. It’s been long decided that our world and this world must be kept separate. We have what you call The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy which has been in place for more than two hundred years. It is considered a crime to tell anyone who has no magic of the Wizarding World.”

Tom had something to say to this, “But what about the children who don’t know anything? Those who do magic on their own without any knowledge of… our world? If you came to us sooner, then we wouldn’t be accused of being different.”

Harry knew it was unfair that Tom was suddenly blaming Dumbledore, but he felt similar. In his first life, no one thought to check up on him, thinking that just because he grew up in a family that was aware of the Wizarding world, they would tell him about it. The ministry worked in assumptions that there would be an eventual integration between the muggleborn children and the rest of the society.

People always hated what they could not understand. Tom even shared him an instance where Mrs. Cole thought about sending him to muggle doctors to be looked at, or to the priests to be exorcised for hosting a demon.

It was his repeated presence in church, and the academic brilliance that had Tom’s teacher’s praising him left and right that stopped her.

He wanted to hug Tom now and offer him comfort, but something inside of him, the part that hosted Voldemort’s soul perhaps, couldn’t fully relax at the sight of Dumbledore.

“I’m sorry for that, Tom. We do not tell muggle raised children about the Wizarding World early on, for a number of reasons. There are budget constraints, and the fact that children at such a young age cannot be trusted to keep with them the knowledge of it. That is why, we wait until you turn eleven before you are invited to attend Wizarding Schools. If a case should ever arise that knowledge of magic has been revealed accidentally or intentionally, the ministry will come into action. They will… erase all the memories of muggles who were involved in the incident. Which is why for the same reason, we cannot allow students to use magic outside of the wizarding world. Tom, Harry. Both of you can do things, can’t you? Things other children can’t.”

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me and Harry. I can make them hurt, If I want.”

Harry looked alarmed at this, and put the cake down. Dumbledore looked guarded after what Tom said, and Harry realized this is the point and time that Dumbledore began to suspect Tom was evil. It was such a hasty judgment. He saw the parallels of what was happening from the memory and Harry knew that if he did not do anything, Dumbledore would soon make a mistake that would sow the seeds of hate in Tom’s mind.

He didn’t want that.

“The other children here are really mean, professor. I’m glad we both have magic, otherwise I’d be dead.”

Harry looked at Dumbledore in the eye knowing that just like Tom, Albus made it a habit to snoop in other people’s minds. It was a bad habit he was never able to remove.

He brought to the forefront the abuse from his father, how the man almost succeeded killing him, how he woke up unable to move, his body almost frozen, a trail of blood as he tried to get out of the box he was dumped in – into the streets. Then a memory of waking up with Tom who was taking care of him, and how he was soon warned about the other children. How he gave back the teddy bear that Tom stole from Amy but was cornered and hit on the head, locked in a closet with a concussion, delirious and in pain.

Albus looked away.

“I’ve heard of what happened from Mrs. Cole, Harry. In Hogwarts, both of you will be safe. We try our best to keep the safety of our students a priority. In fact, for your injuries, our mediwitch will have a look. I still want to emphasize that both of you must avoid using your magic in front of other muggles, as it is a risk but if it is meant for self-defense, our ministry can be reasoned with. Again, the use of wands are forbidden not unless you have an adult with you."

“We understand," Harry said.

“Very well,” Albus replied. He brought up a parchment in air and a quill began writing things for him.

“We still haven’t got a wand though,” Harry muttered distractedly.

“You’ll need one. Would you like me to accompany you both?”

Tom shook his head, “There’s no need. We both know the way.”

“Of course.”

Albus sighed, and turned to Tom and Harry, “There are other rules that you must follow in Hogwarts. Wherever you get sorted, your head of the house will soon explain them to you. For one, we do not tolerate thievery at Hogwarts. Tom, please return what you stole to the other children. At Hogwarts we will teach you not only how to use magic, but also how to control it. Do both of you understand?”

Tom was silent. Harry squeezed Tom’s hand then and said, “we do, professor.”

Albus put away the plate, making it float and  land gently on the table by the bed.

“Harry, can we speak in private?”

“Whatever you want to say can be said here,” Harry didn’t really want to leave Tom alone who looked slightly put off by being told what to do. He should have prepared for this, but he also wanted to see how things would play out if he left Tom alone, and if he managed to change enough.

“This is about your parents, Harry. Do you know who they are?”

Harry looked lost then and said, “No. I barely remember my real mother. I know that she has brown hair and black eyes… but I can’t recall her face, or her name. Do you happen to know them? I’m searching for them too.”

Albus stroked his beard, and said, “That fits the description of Emilia Selwyn. We haven’t seen her in years. When you reach Hogwarts, I can introduce you to someone who knows about your family.”

Harry stood up, and said, “Really professor? That would be great!”

“What about me? Do you know anyone with the surname, Riddle?” Tom asked, sounding hopeful.

Albus looked at Tom, and said slowly, “I'm afraid not. No Riddle has ever attended Hogwarts. You will be the first.”

Tom then calmly told Dumbledore, “Thank you for sharing with us what you know.”

Albus stood up then, “I’m only doing my job. I will send you the trust fund by owl with the instructions of how to go to Hogwarts for the first day of the semester. Write to me if you need assistance. It was nice meeting both of you.”

Albus Dumbledore left.

* * *

The next day, they set off to get the rest of their supplies while the ministry appeared, casting wards and memory charms for those who needed it. Martha, and Mrs. Cole included.

With Diagon Alley being so near, it didn't feel as special to visit it, the novelty having expired at Tom's repeated insistence to come back every other week to buy more books, and things.

The experience with the Ollivander’s shop was tiring for the second time in his life and it was made doubly more time consuming by going with Tom when he knew all alone which wand belonged to him and which wand belonged to Tom.

“Brother wands. You two must share a very special bond. I’ve always thought this wand would do great things, and I’m sure in both of your hands, you will accomplish feats of magic no one has ever done. If you must know, the feather came from Albus Dumbledore’s phoenix. It would be interesting if you meet her. She’s a lovely creature.”

Prophetic statements, and fondness for Fawkes aside, Harry was tired of it all.

It didn’t do well to have people fill Tom’s head of thoughts of how special he was.

Harry just wanted to keep a low profile. At least they both hated wasting time so they completed the shopping without much dilly-dallying.

The thought that Harry had a clue and even a name to who his parents were made Tom restless, and they visited Gringotts just so Tom could do the same test that Harry did. He also paid the goblins a small sum for their silence but he knew they would not talk given that they had a strict policy of client confidentiality.

It only showed them what he already knew, that Tom was related to the Slytherin, Gaunt, and Peverell lines whose vaults did not exist in Gringotts.

Harry did find a book about Parseltongue sold in Obscurus Books. Since they regularly frequented the shop, he managed to reserve it. Harry still didn’t have enough money to buy the pricey 139 galleon book. He thought he’d come back for it later.

He long warned Tom about revealing their parseltongue skill. He showed him a passage written in one book that, _Parseltongue, or the ability to speak to snakes is considered a dark trait. Most notable speakers come from the Slytherin line._ They both read enough that they were informed of the Wizarding war, and that being identified as a dark wizard could do more harm than good.

For a pet, Harry settled for an owl, and she was so beautiful he named her Venus. Tom purchased an owl as well, and he named him Fel. The two liked each other enough, and Fel tolerated Harry but seemed steadfastly loyal to Tom.

Their room was too small to keep both of them though, so they kept them outside. The pet shop owner said they were trained enough that they’ll come to them when called. They’ll respond to their name, and whistle, which was kind of amazing at that.

* * *

Days later, they were told two children died from chicken pox. Harry found that strange but realized that the vaccine from his time had not been licensed yet, and since the orphanage couldn’t afford to send all of them to the hospital, those who were sick were at the mercy of luck.

Harry sort of wished they wouldn’t die.

Voldemort appeared that day, as they watched them carry the bodies out of the orphanage to be buried in the nearby cemetery.

 **How curious. No one died from this in the previous timeline**.

‘Maybe this timeline is different. That’s all. Where have you gone?’

**I was busy.**

‘Busy with what?’

 **Like you’ve said, I read several books in the past and I tried to recall them by memory. No case has been documented of our bond. It is perhaps the only one that ever exists. I’m also devising the best way to create a body, without suffering from the physical deformities that the previous one had. I suppose, you would never allow the murder of Tom Riddle. In a way, his body is mine. It would be simple to tether my consciousness into his and take over**.

Harry felt horrified, ‘I’m not letting you touch Tom. I swear on my magic.’

Harry felt the magical oath take into effect and grinned. ‘I can swear on many things too, Voldemort, and maybe if I lose my magic, you’ll simply disappear and leave me alone.’

**You absolute idiot! Don’t. Do anything stupid. I’m not even considering it. Perhaps you’ve found a loophole, but the moment you even begin to think about it, I’ll wipe off your memories and turn you into a puppet.**

Harry smiled at this, and felt hate surge at him, ‘Oh. I’ve been thinking and I’ve been reading up on magical possession. That you weren’t aware I was reading about them meant that you were elsewhere or resting. You’re just like how you are with Quirrel. You’re nothing but a specter in my head without physical form. You may have access to my mind, but it costs you a lot to do magic because the magic isn’t yours and this body isn’t yours. I may have accepted you, but it doesn’t mean I’ve given you permission to use me as you wish.  You’ve proven to me that while your threats were real, you’re incapable of following through them, because you simply don’t have the magic for it. What little magic you were capable of using, you exhausted when you tried to demonstrate them for me."

There was silence at this. And laughter.

Harry then felt the sudden hammering of his occlumency shields, and he collapsed next to Tom who started asking if he was alright.

He could not see a thing, could not feel. There was total darkness.

**You think you have it all figured out, Harry? Fine. I admit. I deceived you. I wanted to see if there was a way for you to follow my bidding without messing extensively with your mind. But you’re wrong in one aspect, Harry. My access to your mind comes naturally to me as the air with which you breathe. Your mind welcomes me like it is my own. I can easily erase your memories and turn you into a puppet. This, I assure you, I do not lie about. It is a fact. It will take me longer, but I am willing to wait until you’re fully capable of executing my plans of securing a physical body for me.**

‘Like hell, I’ll let you. All you’ve done is threaten me. You wanted me dead the moment I was born and you never succeeded killing me. Maybe I still have luck on my side and you’ll never truly succeed with this plan of yours. I wish you can just leave me alone-’

Voldemort's voice cut him off.

**That’s what I’ve been doing. I know you don’t appreciate my presence. I’ve kept quiet and gave you space these past few months. I’ve been considerate. It’s not like I desired to be bonded to your pathetic soul but I am, and there is nothing that we currently know that can change that. Right now, Harry, you need to accept me as a part of you. Until you give me a body, I am not going anywhere. I do not wish to harm you for you are my vessel, the holder of my soul. My immortal horcrux.**

‘Stop it. Stop saying things that creep me out! I’m not yours. I hate you. I really do. I’m willing to turn into a squib if it means ridding you from the world. It doesn't mean that just because I was an unintentional horcrux, I belong to you. It doesn't mean you can claim me, or assume that I need your protection, or your care. It's sick that you think that way when all this time you've been doing the opposite. How can you even tolerate the idea when you've made it clear you wanted me dead? You hated me!’

**What do you truly have against me? What do you know of my plans? Why do you think I’m only _evil?_ You’ve been brainwashed by Dumbledore that you must destroy me for being _evil_ , but the truth is not as simple. Whatever ideals I fought for, you opposed without clearly understanding them. Yes, I killed your parents, and I repeatedly tried to murder you, but I am the dark lord. I cannot let a mere child destroy my plans, prophecy or no prophecy. I have invested too much of my time and power to change the Wizarding World.**

**And I failed. I accept that.  
**

**Now, I am stuck with you. Even as the Master of Death, you are nothing but an orphan child. The longer you refuse to calm down, the longer I’ll have to needlessly hurt you. I need you to listen to me.**

Harry was allowed a brief moment of awareness of his physical body, of Tom trying to shake him awake and of Martha kneeling down next to him. Countless children were whispering amongst themselves.

Then nothing.

* * *

He did not know how long he stayed there, wherever it was, without his senses – in the darkness with only his thoughts to accompany him. Whatever Voldemort said did make sense. He tried to put himself in his shoes, and understood that the man was going to take every chance he had in surviving. It didn’t make any of his actions forgivable. It didn’t lessen Harry’s hate for him. He still thought that if there was a way to destroy Voldemort, he would.

Right now, Voldemort was tolerating him, and Harry knew that the best course of action was to take this sign as a peace flag and wave his own. He knew he had to save his energy for fighting the man when it truly mattered, and not give his all during these routine squabbles.

He did not even let him finish whatever he had to say, which was something about his body and that he considered using Tom and at the mention of Tom, he lost it. He had a bombardment of thoughts about bringing all sorts of harm on himself, because he hated whatever Voldemort had to say and he hated the thought of harm ever coming to Tom. It was as if some part of him flared like some angry mother dragon, the moment Voldemort even attempted to share his opinions. He would prefer it if Voldemort was just stuck inside his head, without informing him of his presence.

Ignorance was bliss.

But he did not understand why Voldemort cared. It was true that if he messed enough with his memories, and rendered Harry the equivalent of an eleven year old – erasing all the previous memories of who he was, then maybe Harry would listen to him. All his life, Voldemort had been there, but Harry knew without a capable enough assistant for creating his body, Harry would be the equivalent of a toddler being taught how to build a plane, or maybe not that extreme but to some extent similar.

He just hated losing, to Voldemort especially, and that’s what’s been happening. Voldemort knew all the tactics to make him surrender, whether it was through fear, his tendency for heroism, his attachment to others,  or even his aversion to Voldemort himself.

He'd had a lot of practice manipulating others, and he almost wondered why Voldemort didn’t even seem to try harder, to deceive him, admitting what he can and can’t do… though he wouldn’t put it past the man to lie about so many other things just to get what he wanted.

Granted that, if Voldemort had been awake in Limbo, and if the passage of time was similar, then the man was well over a hundred, and Harry was simply half his age. Wizards were expected to age over a hundred before dying, some reaching the ripe age of three hundred. In the battle of wits, he knew the man should win, especially with his sanity intact.

It grated Harry to hear his voice, and to remember that he fucked up and this was all because Dumbledore sought to give him the tools for ensuring that Voldemort was destroyed.

It backfired spectacularly.

And he couldn't help the feeling of panic, the longer he stayed in the sea of nothingness.

It was as if Voldemort sensed he was beginning to feel restless so the man himself or child appeared.

They were both sitting before each other, a small white marble table separating them. Voldemort was wearing the skin of Tom Riddle, and Harry was a flickering black thing with no body.

“You are not a Hero in this world, Harry and I am _not_ the Dark Lord. I am willing to give you my word that until I have solved the mystery of our connection, and the powers granted by Death, I will not gather followers. My younger self is more likely to do that."

Harry wanted to protest but a finger was pressed against his lips which Harry promptly slapped away.

"I know, I have needlessly antagonized you. As much as you hate me, I’ve hated you and I will not deny that. I wanted you to bend to my will, for I only have you but I see no point in hurting you any further. What we have before us, is a second chance, if you will, a blank slate. I merely wish to live again and to pursue knowledge I have not known before. In order to do that, I must keep you safe for you are my tether to this world. Will you not give me a chance to do this, Harry?”

Harry kept his silence at this. “You're a monster. You don't deserve a second chance. I know that you will never change and if I let you, I'm probably a fool. What do you even want from me? You want my consent? Well, sorry to say you're never geting this. I will never knowingly help you, and if I do, it's because you're threatening me. What do you want to do when you have a body? Don’t you still want to take over the wizarding world? I can’t let you do that. You’ll kill so many people, and hurt all the others. You're better of dead,” Harry spat.

Tom laughed, and touched Harry's hand. Harry's form began to vibrate, he soon found himself slowly gaining color, and the physical form of his eleven year old self. It disturbed him to see himself as a wraith, almost reminiscent to a dementor.

“Like what your dear Albus said, I’ve been impatient. I have secured myself a form of immortality, all to remain in that world. I wished to change things according to how I wanted them. The Wizarding World is flawed, and if one desires change, one must be willing to sacrifice many things, even the precious lives of those who have magic, the parts of my soul, my morality, and my body. I cannot make everyone follow me, and I could not make people understand without forcing them as I have. I have been painted the monster, but know this, there is another side to all that. There is a reason why I have gathered so many in my fold, for they all share the same goals. It is not as petty and corrupt as others have led you to believe.”

Harry tried to pull away but humored the man trying not to be deceived by the familiar form. “You wanted to subjugate all magical life under your rule. You wanted everyone to bow down before you and be treated like a god. You're a psycopath, a mass murderer. The worst kind.”

Tom smiled at him serenely, “No, Harry. You wound me. I wanted a revolution. I wanted the complete segregation of Muggle and Wizarding kind. I wanted to prevent worse tragedies from ever happening again. If you think Wizarding wars have been cruel, then it is nothing compared to the destruction that Muggles will bring. My cause is noble, and if my methods weren’t, then I thought to myself the end would justify the means. I wanted to have my mark upon every magical soil and have them stand united under my rule, changing what needs to be changed. Many times in history, a wise king is all the world needs to move forward. Many have tried before me and I was prepared to sacrifice everything to see my vision happen. Then, the prophecy came and I’ve been reduced to a wretched ghost, defeated, again and again by fate and by you.”

Harry noted the bitterness at this, “Someone had to kill you. No one else knew how to, and I was the only one capable of doing it.”

“That’s what Dumbledore wants you to believe. There could have been countless others who were given the same task of destroying my soul, but he wished it to be you, his child soldier to do the deed. In the grand scheme of things, you were his willing puppet, a mere lamb waiting to be slaughtered. I killed you once but sadly enough you didn’t stay dead.”

Harry's head hurt at this. He knew what Dumbledore did was wrong, but he couldn't blame Albus.

“I’m sure the professor has his reasons. He would have killed you himself had the ring not killed him. What about muggleborns and muggles? What do you plan to do with them?”

“Your trust in Dumbledore is severely misplaced. I hope you see the lies he fed all the others who are loyal to him. As for muggles and muggleborns... The muggleborns have been indoctrinated by their muggle views. I planned to slowly absorb them into the wizarding community. Muggles, I wanted to destroy, but I myself know that it is impossible to do so. I then wished to be able to control them, without their knowledge of course. Their numbers are far too vast, and their weapons far too destructive to deal with them directly. Our ministry was ineffective, filled with bigots and those who practice nepotism following an age old tradition of maintaining their corrupt bureaucracy. When I graduated, I've been offered several posts in the ministry and I declined all of them, for I hated the imbeciles that worked within it.”

“That still doesn’t excuse you for the crimes you committed. If this is what you wanted, why did you let the rest of the world believe you wanted the purebloods in power? Why did you let your followers torture and kill people? Why propagate that you hated the thought of dirty blood? You and your followers tortured, pillaged, raped, murdered, kidnapped, and enslaved people against their will. There should have been a better way of doing things.”

“I agree, but I cared not for the better way, when I could have done something with more immediate results. You are asking me to change a society that has not changed for several decades. The purebloods were in a position of power, and to those who were weak willed, I led them to believe I was just like any other Dark Lord, putting forth the idea of blood supremacy. In this manner, I’ve gathered an army willing to serve me. My inner circle knows the eventuality of my plans." Voldemort paused and something on his gaze made Harry uncomfortable. "Harry, I know that we will never see eye to eye with the methods I've used. I do not regret using them. But I promise not pursue these dreams of mine when there is no point of even doing so. There is no certainty that we will remain in this life. For some unfathomable reason, you can die, and be reborn elsewhere. If that happens and I come along with you, any effort from my part will be wasted. I am giving you the freedom to accept me or fight me. If you do fight me, I will strip you clean of whatever that makes you Harry Potter.”

Harry stared at him, and down at his hands. “Then that’s no freedom. I still have no choice. I don’t want you to take away my memories. That’s the equivalent of killing me."

"Then, do what is easy and accept my offer. Work with me. I mean you no harm."

"No, Voldemort."

"But… aren't you tired of fighting with me all the time?" Tom asked, prodding.

Harry hissed, "Of course I am! You're stuck in my head so it feels constant... I don’t like you and I don’t think I can forgive you… what you say does make sense. But what if you’re lying to me? What if you’re just deceiving me? Why can't you just tell me the truth?”

“The truth is what hurts the most. You can belive whatever you wish to believe. What more do I have to lose? In comparison what do you think can I gain if I work with you? It is easy to understand which is more desirable for me. As loathe as I am to admit, I do not even want to destroy you, for I have lived your life as well. I told you this before, and I am telling you again now, I am the only one who will ever know you for a part of me will remain you. I know all your thoughts, dreams, weaknesses, strengths, and most of all, I have felt what you felt... I have shared it all.”

Tom put his hands together underneath his chin and leaned forward.

Harry felt disgust at this, “Is this because of the horcrux?” Harry still couldn't stomach the idea of Voldemort ever being so intimate with him but how much more intimate can one be from sharing a soul?

“Yes. I have been at war with what I want to do with you. A greater part of me wishes to see you break down in despair and bow down before me," Tom, waved one hand before slowly swishing it back, "but another part wishes to keep you safe and unharmed. I enjoyed causing you immense turmoil. I sent you disturbing dreams, and forced you to acknowledge that I exist within you, but… it has grown tiresome when you can barely fight me inside your mind. It is like plucking a flower that hasn't bloomed.”

“You enjoy? What? How twisted can you be? Is this why you’re being so weird?... The Voldemort I knew would never be this amicable… You should be taking advantage of me. Not… giving me an illusion of freedom. Are you… keeping me calm, by using the bond?... Because I know I should feel angry at you. Like really angry. Shouting angry.” Harry asked confusedly, words starting to feel difficult enough to think of, drugged by the effects of the bond.

“I am. It’s working isn’t it? Don’t you like how it feels?”

Harry shook his head, trying to say no but felt the rest of himself relax, boneless and it was unfair. “You’re just a liar. You lie to me when it feels convenient to, and now with the threat of turning myself into a squib, you're scared of. Dying. You've always been afraid... You being nice to me won't change what I feel. I don’t trust you one bit. I hate you.”

There was silence at that, and Harry laughed wryly to himself. Tom, or Voldemort grinned, “I know, but you’ll have to trust me eventually. It’s not healthy for you to be in such a constant state of stress. If this method is the most effective way to make you listen to me, then I’ll use it.”

“Aren’t you affected as well?” Harry asked, now fully slumped on the table and Tom began petting him. Harry shivered at this.

“Not as much as you are, my dear child.” Tom smiled at this, a chesire cats grin, with his lips stretching out inhumanly like the moon. Monster, Harry thought.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? Why can’t you disappear? It’s not fair. Why is it always me?... Why are you asking so much from me? I’m your enemy. I’d be happier if you just went back to wanting to kill me.”

“I do not desire that any longer. You are more useful to me alive. I even wish to help you. I promised I would. Stop hurting yourself. Just relax. Listen to what I have to say.”

"Nothing good comes out of it. I don't even want to know what you want to say."

"You must. It's for your own good."

Soon, the scenery began to change, and Harry found himself in Tom’s arms unable to hear what he was saying. His body felt like it was made of jelly. Martha was trying to pry his body away from Tom who was snarling at her.

**I wanted to let you know that I am not using Tom’s body for the ritual. You’re far too attached to him. What we’ll need is either a homunculus made with your essence and a live sacrifice. I’ve also been thinking of using a freshly dead body. If you’re lucky, you would not be an accomplice to murder… I have reason to believe there is more to being the Master of Death than just surviving death. It is only apt. So far, after coming to this world, three individuals close to you have died, perhaps even more. I suggest you try something out, something that you’ve avoided ever since you’ve been aware of your powers.**

‘What are you saying…?’

**Find yourself dead animal, or kill one, it doesn’t matter. Then, will it to live. If by chance you bring a dead animal back to life, then we have necromancy at our disposal, and it will make our lives easier. It will be a problem if you cannot control it, and we do not want people needlessly dying all around us because you have chosen neglect it.**

* * *

Tom’s concern was palpable, and the boy didn’t want to let go of him. It’s been weeks since then, and in those weeks, Harry hardly had time to experiment. Voldemort’s numerous confessions left him reeling. All very valid points and altogether painting a picture that in their situation, Voldemort was as helpless as he was and was only trying to adapt to his environment by changing the way he felt, about him, and actively seeking solutions.

It left a lot to say about himself, who gave in to his childish urges by withdrawing and denying his current reality.

He was not a hero.

He was not expected to vanquish a Dark Lord.

He knew there was one in his head, but Voldemort declared himself as an ally and not his enemy. He did not wish to harm him.

It felt like something was broken in that logic, and he still could not wrap his head around the idea.

He thought of Tom, and the possibility that the next time he died, he might not even see Tom, and be deposited in another world where his only companion was the dark lord in his head. He could be reborn as another person. He did not wish to imagine what it felt. He felt the loss once, and he did not want to feel it again.

He needed to find a way to control the power before he became a slave to it.

So, when Tom was gone, he went to Sif and asked her to hunt something for him, to show how good she was with hunting. It hardly took her a few minutes before they were in the backyard, and Harry watched from afar as Sif showed her prowess. It hurt to see a creature die, with his delicate sensibilities as a kid feeling pity for the poor little bird whose life was squeezed out of her and her body giving in to the poison from Sif’s fangs. He crouched before it and it was unmoving.

Harry willed it to live.

The body twitched, and its eyes opened once more, in so much pain.

Sif was surprised as well and ate it up, unwilling to let her prize get away when its wings started fluttering.

Harry felt horrified at the revelation. He ignored Voldemort’s ecstatic voice in his head at the revulsion he felt.

If people were dying all around him, then could he have caused the death of his own parents? How many people did he unconsciously kill?

* * *

“Harry, what’s wrong? Come on, tell me.” Tom brushed Harry’s hair, away from his eyes. They’ve forgotten to cut it, and his fringe had grown longer.

Tom felt worry, like acid on his tongue. It was an alien feeling to worry about someone other than himself, but he did worry about Harry. The boy was proving a challenge to take care of, but he was precious to him like a precious gemstone. He wished to keep him, and keep him he did.

Harry looked as if he was about to cry, and he was doing that a lot lately. Then the green eyed boy opened his mouth to speak, “I’m afraid, Tom. I don’t want you to die.”

“Stop being silly, Harry. I’m not going anywhere,” Tom assured the other boy. He pressed his hand against Harry’s forehead, trying to check if the other boy had a fever.

“You don’t understand _. I… I just want you safe. I don’t want you hurt… and I… I just feel scared for you_ ,” Harry whispered, slowly slipping into parseltongue.

“ _I’m not hurt. I’m safe. I am where I should be. You need to breathe. In… and out. Just like that, Harry. Did you have another nightmare?_ ”

At this, Harry nodded his head and closed his eyes.

He listened to the train moving in the silence, trying to take comfort from something so achingly familiar.

The door to their cabin opened loudly, and inside came a platinum haired blonde with long hair tied back in a low pony tail..

“Ah, this room has space. I hope you’re not averse to sharing it. Come on, Orion.”

Harry opened his eyes at this, and Tom tried to force himself to stay calm.

“I’m Abraxas Malfoy and this is Orion Black.”

Harry blinked at this, and said, “Harry Selwyn.”

“Selwyn? I’ve heard father mention something about them to me before, and you are?”

“Tom Riddle.”

Abraxas crinkled his nose at Tom’s name, “Are you muggleborn by any chance?”

“Abraxas, language,” Orion chided, looking embarrassed.

“If he is, then we’ll have to leave this cabin.”

“Tom’s not muggleborn. His blood is purer than yours can ever be,” Harry said, annoyed.

“Prove it,” Abraxas haughtily demanded.

Tom wandlessly closed the blinds, and stole the clip that held the boy’s hair in place. Abraxas sputtered, “This is from your mother is it not? You better take care of it.”

Tom tossed the onxy band back to the boy, who spluttered, “T-That… That doesn’t prove anything!”

There was a knock at their door, and an elderly witch opened it asking, “Care for some sweets? I have pastries, and pie, chocolates, and drinks.”

Harry stretched and sat up, “Yes, we’ll have some.”

Orion smiled at him, and scolded Abraxas asking him to behave.

“We’ll have some too, if you don't mind.”

* * *

“Now, when I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the hat on your head and you will be sorted into your houses,” Albus said, his voice booming across the hall as the students sat with rapt anticipation waiting for the sorting to begin.

Harry spent the rest of the train ride sleeping, and soon enough he found himself sitting with the sorting hat on top of his head, with a hundred eyes looking at him, and whispers of his name. The Hall was magnificent, and he could hardly believe he was back here in the place he considered _home_.

Tom was expectantly looking at him from the Slytherin table, sitting next to Abraxas who suddenly had a change of heart, and Orion right beside him. Euphemia Rowle, sat directly in front of him, the girl who came before him.

“You are the most interesting child I have ever had the pleasure to sort. Mind you, I’m good at keeping secrets so there is no need to panic. Hmmn. What’s this? It seems in your past life, I placed you in Gryffindor when you were meant to be in Slytherin. Let’s see how much has changed...” The hat spoke quietly, almost as if speaking inside his head.

“Ahhh! Difficult, this one is. Plenty of courage I see, that’s to be expected. You’ve grown inquisitive. An immense thirst for knowledge. Loyal, especially to that friend you have over there. You still don’t like Slytherin don’t you? It’s a good house to put you, yes?”

Harry knew it would be for the best. Somehow he thought that if he stayed with Tom, then perhaps he could influence him, away from what he was destined to be.

It felt like an eternity, wondering where he’ll be sorted.

“You want to stay with your friend, ey?” The hat chuckled and Harry replied, “Yes. He’d like that.”

Tom would appreciate it. He definitely would. They’ve never been apart since Harry met Tom. It would feel weird to be in a different house, and he didn’t have the heart to deny the hat if it wanted to put him in Slytherin again.

“BETTER BE…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“RAVENCLAW!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Let me know what you think. We're almost reaching the end of the first part :D Only four more chapters to go!


End file.
